ROMY Round Robin Like a Bat out of Hell
by Fostersb
Summary: ROMY Round Robin: Rogue has left the X-men to take possession of a house in New Orleans. Remy, the newly appointed leader of the Thieves Guild, is trying to keep his family together. What could possibly happen when their two world's collide?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello dear readers- this is the beginning of a partnership between some fabulous ROMY writers. You might recognize the players which include: aiRo25, Tamarai, Pennylane87, Gammy91, Merr2, Shadowfax999, Chellerbelle, Fostersb, NewMoonNight and Star-of-Chaos. Each one of us will be bringing you a chapter, though the story will be connected to Fostersb's account. This first chapter is brought to you by Shadowfax999. ENJOY!**

Chapter 1

_I am not sure where my story starts, was it when my mutation first manifested and all hell broke loose? Was it when I met Logan, the X-Men and Magneto and all hell broke loose? Or maybe it was when I took the cure and… are you noticing a pattern here? _

_But sometimes I guess, it really isn't where the story starts, but rather where the journey takes you, and once again in this little tale, all hell did break loose, but for once I am very glad it did. If not, then I would have missed out on what would be, perhaps, the greatest adventure yet._

"Who is she, a teacher or a student like us?" _Ah yes__,__ the end of a school year, and the influx of new students…_

"Neither actually, I heard she's doing community service!" _New students, and quite reasonably… _

"No way! I heard that the government passed a law that all mutant institutions must have at least one human employed… She's probably our token human." New rumors… She was a little disappointed though, not much creativity in this bunch_. _

"Freak! What a weird career choice."

It's amazing how some sentiments never change, but merely modify over time and circumstance. The hushed whispers that had stalked her presence from the time her mutation had manifested seemed to be one of the many things that she carried forth in her 'new' life.

"Maybe she's doing community service?" _How odd._

"She's probably a spy for the government. We should tell that Mr. Logan person." _Snort._

"Are you kidding? He's probably boinking her. Since we've been here, ever notice how much he stares at her?" _Ok__,__ now that was just gross, and besides, we've been down that well beaten path already. _

"Ew! Isn't that some sort of cross breeding? It's probably gonna be illegal if the government passes legislation." _Now that was just darn well rude, didn't her mamma teach her any manners?_

"Gross, imagine having to mate with one of the guys here…" _You're telling me… _

Finally getting the last of the posters up on the notice board, the young woman turned around to acknowledge the group of new mutants. "Welcome to the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. On behalf of the staff and students, I would like to welcome you all to the Mansion. My name is Rogue, and I am in charge of your orientation. If there are no questions, I would like you all to walk this way please, as I give you a tour of the school."

"Excuse me, Miss Rogue?" A pretty, little girl with innocent, chocolate eyes at the front of the class put up her hand. _Huh, she reminds me of a younger Kitty…_

"Why are you here? Everyone says you're human, and since this is a Mutant School, what do you do here exactly?" _Just like Kitty, right down to her abundance of tact; funny enough though, I've been asking myself the same thing for the entire year_.

"Well, I am the Events Coordinator at the mansion. I oversee every orientation for new students, and I make sure everyone settles in comfortably. I organize social events for you guys to get to know one another better and become familiar with the staff and other students. During the term, I'm responsible for ensuring no one has clashes in their timetables, and all correspondence for the school is kept up-to-date," Rogue's voice droned on in an unconvincing monotone.

"So, basically you're a glorified Secretary." A little boy with a starched collar and a little clip on tie sneered. _Oh lord, look-y here, a mean version of Scott Summers_.

Too far gone to have the desire to reiterate her importance, she merely settled for, "Probably," and then proceeded to show the group of 20 prepubescent teens around their new home.

Of course, the little girl's quest for answers was relentless, and the 'glorified secretary' idly wondered whether or not it could be classified as a secondary manifestation of her power. I _wonder, if anyone would notice if I taser her… _

"Hello Rogue, how is the orientation going?" Storm asked as the group entered the main hall. _Darn it, I swear when that woman inherited the Professor's office__,__ she inherited his powers too._

"You're just in time actually. This_, _class, is your Headmistress,"—some of the older boys snickered at that—"Ms. Munroe."

"And this concludes our tour of the mansion. Your classes won't start for two months since its summer, so you are all free to mingle as you wish. Remember though, that the lower levels are strictly off limits, and boys are not to wander into the Girls' Wing, nor should girls in the Boy's wing, and lights out at 9 for you guys. Bye." She rattled off her parting words and scurried off to the library for some peace and quiet.

Since it was summer, no one ever came into the library, and it gave her a much-needed break from all the whispers and knowing looks. Walking in and heading straight for the single chair by the window, Rogue took a seat. She picked up a copy of the Bronte novel she was currently reading from the side table and promptly put it back down as the whispers from her tour resurfaced. It was not the first, or the most creative or even the last of the callous words she had come to expect from the mutant company she currently kept.

'I'm not happy,' she thought to herself. It may have been a bit strange to anyone else, but for a girl who had multiple voices in her head for half a decade, internal dialogue was the most soothing way for her to get her thoughts organized and maintain some sort of serenity.

Should I leave? Should I stay? Did I really have a choice? These questions circled continuously in her only way she could leave this room with any sort of peace of mind was if she really got down to it and answered some of the most basic questions. It was no longer satisfying to her to merely survive the day mentally or emotionally. She was fed up with feeling like an outcast in her own home, which begged the point, was this really her home anymore?

She could perhaps pinpoint the beginning of the end to the day Logan failed to stop her from taking the cure. But she had decided long ago that blaming others for what was ultimately her decision solved nothing and only drove a wedge between her and her friends.

Prior to her getting the Cure she didn't count herself as having many friends. It was a small circle that shrunk even more when John left. After taking the cure things became increasingly strained on her remaining ones. Logan didn't treat her any differently. His words on that faithful day had echoed in her mind over the years, but at the heart of it, he truly accepted her position and the choice she made. It had made no difference to him.

But Logan alone, whilst sufficient on the battlefield, was not adequate for a smooth life at the mansion. Since the deaths of the Professor, Scott and Jean (again), the staff at the school had dwindled considerably while the student population had almost doubled. Storm had been left in charge of the School, as dictated by the Professor's Will, with his assets all going towards keeping the School functioning. Logan had also been named in conjunction with the school, but no one really knew the details about that.

This led to the weather witch's outsourcing for eligible teachers, as well as, seeking the older students to assume various roles of authority until qualified teachers could fill the necessary posts. Both Piotr and Bobby had been 'promoted' to substitute teacher status, and whilst Storm had expressed desire for Rogue to take over the 'Ethics' Course for the senior students, the girl politely declined.

_Why on God's green earth did she expect me to willingly endure more of the teenage drama that went on in Mutant High is beyond me. _

To say losing, or rather choosing, to let go of her mutant abilities was a humbling experience if nothing else. Even if no one else believed that she did it for herself and not to save a crumbling relationship, she knew the truth, and frankly some days, it was the only thing that kept her going.

The removal of her powers and subsequent dissolution of her relationship with Iceman, took a toll on her emotionally and she found herself, ironically, going through the stages of grief.

There was the Shock and Denial; it actually took her a few months to really believe that she could actually touch another person and many of the mansion's inhabitants didn't really understand what she was going through. The younger girls tried to encourage her to change her wardrobe and have Girls' Night doing each other's make up and nails, but it was difficult for the southerner. Something as simple as holding Bobby's hand without a glove was borderline painful, and she often suffered from something similar to Sensory overload whenever too many people began crowding around her, determined to show her how wonderful it was not to be a slave to gloves anymore.

It was then, that Logan showed the first real interest in her personal well being since she took the Cure. He began seeking her out for early morning meditation sessions, which in the long run were really responsible for her getting a grip on the overwhelming sense of freedom she gained. Then in the night, to fight her fear of relapse of a sensory overload, she began burning one article of clothing a night from her wardrobe. Logan called it a 'cleansing' experience until she began replacing her clothes with cut-offs and tank tops. She suspected this was the reason for him sheathing his claws repeatedly at certain male students whenever she was around.

Of course then there was the subsequent Pain and Guilt that followed, and the beloved Ice-fool didn't help. Now, not to say he wasn't a supportive boyfriend, but for her to deal with her own guilt and his was exhausting at the very least. Too bad the rest of the mansion didn't see it that way. It was difficult for anyone else to really understand; imagine having all your pain and guilt reflected in the eyes of the one person you love more than anything. He couldn't allow himself to enjoy any part of their relationship without the guilt shining brightly in his eyes. Bobby, it seemed, did not believe that she did it for herself and so every moment they shared became bittersweet. If she didn't break it off, it would have consumed them. Whilst she had gotten accustomed to the cruel ways of the world, she had hoped beyond everything that Bobby at least, would get to keep a bit of that innocence that he always appeared to have.

Which, naturally brought her to Anger and for a long time she became a nice steaming pot of scorching Southern Sass. Fresh from her break up and annoyed by the rumors surrounding the circumstances for it, she lashed out at everyone, especially at those assuming that she wanted no restrictions brought about by a boyfriend now that she had the privilege of touch. She mostly snarled and turned a bitter blind eye to the rumors, but when a certain Miss Pryde took it upon herself to egg her on in all her self-righteousness, her pot reached a boiling point and a certain Windy City native failed to hear the warning whistle.

Logically, there was no way anyone could have expected her not to pounce on the little Yank for calling her a Harlot, and like all little girls, Kitty had screamed and thrashed until she belatedly remembered her mutant abilities and ran like the coward she was._ Huh… skank_.

She went and hid in Storm's office, who gave all the students, including Ms. Cry-baby Pryde, a danger room session. Without powers though, which everyone had blamed Rogue for. To this day, Rogue still didn't get their logic, but whatever. Her Southern Pride was still intact.

As time passed, the Spunky Southerner continued to feel segregated as the danger room was now off limits to her. Plus, with the arrival of new students, the questions came. Most predominantly, _'Why was she here if she wasn't a mutant?_'

She turned down the teaching position Storm had offered her, and instead opted for as little interaction with the new student body as possible by becoming what mini-Scott called her, the mansion's secretary. She hid in her little office during the school terms and communicated with all students and teachers electronically. During the summer, save for the orientation of new students that Storm had demanded she do, she hid in the library with her favorite book. Some called it depression and some said she was a social misfit. The truth was she probably fell in both categories, but she was determined to ride it out. She had no desire to continue to be this sad excuse of a person that she had recently become, especially not when she had been given this precious gift of freedom once more.

* * *

As summer turned into fall, a sense of uneasiness engulfed her. It was like she was on the brink of something, she just could not figure out what. And as another day found her in her little office, sorting through mail, an inconspicuous brown manila envelope with a neat little tie and the return address of a lawyer's office in New Orleans was curiously addressed to her.

Waiting till the end of the day and in the privacy of her room, she took a letter opener to her envelope and neatly slit it open.

'Dear Ms. D'Ancanto'

'_Come again?'_ She frowned as she re-read the letter. If this was a prank she was going to hurt somebody… badly… maybe even sic Logan on them.

She spotted the phone number of the Office and dialed without a second thought.

"Hello. Is this Turner & Turner, New Orleans? Yes, my name is Marie D'Ancanto."

"Yes."

"Ok. Hello —No, I did not."

"Oh."

"Should I -"

"Oh, that makes sense. Thank you then, I guess."

'_Huh,'_ she thought to herself._ 'Poor Aunt Irene.'_

Checking to make sure Storm was not in an important meeting, she stormed into the office. _No pun intended._

"I got mail," were the brilliant words she relayed to her mentor.

"Marie, darlin', can't you see I'm in a meeting here?" Logan's gruff rebuff had no effect on the wide-eyed Mississippi native.

"Shut your pie hole, Logan; this is serious. It's from a Lawyer, Storm," she said, focusing on the headmistress and ignoring Logan's complaints, "and apparently I've just inherited a house."

"Marie—" Logan tried to cut in, but to no avail.

"Storm, with your blessings I'd like to go visit the place and maybe if things go well set up shop there." Rogue bit her lip and she mentally willed the Weather Goddess to agree with her readily.

"If that is what you want, then it is quite understandable Rogue. Shall I get Piotr to prepare the Blackbird?"

"Actually 'Ro…" She gnawed on her bottom lip, knowing that this would be the hard part of the conversation. "I was hoping to go there alone." She handed Ororo the document in her hand, a resignation letter.

"You mean to leave us, Rogue?" The hurt in her voice was palpable, and Rogue felt every bit the Judas in that moment.

"Storm, you guys are family; I can never really leave you, but right now I need a change of scenery or something, because I'm about to go stir crazy in here. The X-Men will always have a place in my heart and from the bottom of my heart I thank you for everything, because I found a home here when I had nothing and no one, and you made sure that the dream didn't die with the Professor. I don't know if anyone has told you yet, but you're doing a great job here. But things are different for me now, and I don't want you to feel I'm selling out or anything, but for now I really need to leave." Trying to pour every ounce of gratitude in that impromptu speech made her feel like a bit of weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

Logan evidently needed no explanation. "So when are you leaving, Stripes?"

With a leveled look, she replied, "Soon."

* * *

As the clock struck midnight the gates opened and a rider with a lone backpack raced out of the garage like a bat out of hell. The few that were waking assumed that Logan had gone on another beer run, but after the morning assembly, the senior students recognized the rite of passage for the Southerner: Logan borrowed Scott's bike and she in turn borrowed Logan's.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to all the people who have been reading and reviewing the story. Another chapter, this one is brought to you by the wonderful Tamarai.**

* * *

A single light burned in an otherwise darkened building, marring the serene New Orleans night sky. Anyone out and about around the Thieves Guild's private headquarters would recognize the location of the single lit room and know that the new Patriarch of Thieves was still up and busy in his office.

Inside, Remy shuffled the papers around on his desk in between sips of bourbon. He still wasn't entirely used to sitting in his father's chair, behind his father's desk, doing his father's job.

It had come as a surprise when Jean-Luc suddenly handed him the title of 'Patriarch of the Thieves Guild'. Or at least it had seemed out of the blue, but Jean-Luc never did anything that wasn't carefully meditated and well-thought out. It may have come as a surprise to Remy to be heading the clan, but to everyone else in the family, it seemed to be expected.

Henri had taken him out to get 'absolutely smashed - Thieves-style' the night he was inaugurated. One would have expected that Henri would have been discontent or jealous having the title of Patriarch given to his younger brother instead of to him. But Henri could not have been more proud of his baby brother and had fed Remy far more drinks than was probably wise.

His poor cousin Etienne, had been given the unpleasant task of bringing Remy home after Henri had left abruptly with his wife, Mercy, stating that she had 'a headache'. Everyone knew the real reason they were going home, and it had nothing to do with not feeling good and everything to do with the two feeling a little _too_ good.

Remy had been far from cooperative that night, and Etienne had had his work cut out for him. But if Remy could count on anyone, it was his younger cousin. The two had been through all sorts of misadventures together while growing up, and Remy loved Etienne like a younger brother.

Now, Remy was sitting at his father's desk, trying to reach a decision regarding Etienne and his upcoming Tilling. Etienne was what the Thieves referred to as a 'late starter', due to his clumsiness and skittishness.

For as long as Remy had known Etienne, he'd always been a bit of a nervous wreck and possessed a highly anxious personality. Normally, these were traits that made for a lousy, lousy Thief, but Remy had witnessed his cousin pull off some spectacular capers. That was, when Etienne actually calmed down, focused, and stopped thinking of all the things that could go wrong.

As the new Patriarch of the Thieves, it was Remy's job and sworn duty to organize a Thief's rite of passage into the Guild. Etienne's rite of passage, or Tilling, was long overdue. The moment that Remy had taken his father's chair, Etienne was in his office practically pleading with Remy to let him finally prove his worth.

"_Please, Remy, at this rate Henri and Mercy's unconceived children will be official Thieves before I am!"_ Etienne had begged in despair.

It put Remy in a horrible position because he knew the reason why his father had put off Etienne's Tilling. Etienne wasn't ready, and rather than have him fail his Tilling and face banishment, Jean-Luc had merely put it off.

Remy, on the other hand, couldn't refuse his beloved cousin's request. It was awfully hard to say 'no' to him, especially after all the times Etienne had had his back and looked after him. Besides, Remy was fairly certain that Etienne could pull it off. He just had to pick something that wasn't blatantly easy or ridiculously hard to do.

The idea had come to him last night, and he had proceeded to make the necessary arrangements to make sure Etienne's Tilling was foolproof.

"If you are so sure about this, why are you looking into the safe houses, little brother?" Henri asked while reading over Remy's shoulder.

Remy cringed. He hadn't even heard Henri come into the office. "I'm just covering all areas, just in case—"

"Ettie screws it up," Henri finished with a sigh. "Rem, you never should have agreed to this."

"How was I supposed to refuse his request? We've been almost inseparable since I was adopted and brought into the family."

"Sentimentality is a trait unbecoming of a Thief, especially one who is the new Patriarch," Henri cautioned. "Everyone is still scrutinizing everything you do and will be for the first little while. Not to mention, comparing you to Father."

"I'm aware of that, Henri." Remy groaned irritably while running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "It's just that I know Et can do this."

Henri's expression softened and he perched himself on the edge of the desk. He reached over to the decanter of bourbon and poured himself a drink.

"Have you at least decided what he's supposed to steal?"

Remy rubbed the back of his neck, unsure whether he wanted to tell Henri or not. Henri raised a curious eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

"Marius' ceremonial chalice. You know, the one his bloodline received from Candra," Remy answered bravely.

Henri let out a low whistle. "You sure about that?"

Remy found his resolve instantly. "Of course I'm sure!" he snapped. He had been thinking long and hard about what would be appropriate to take from the Assassins Guild. "It's not like Belle's using it!"

"And it's not like you and Bella Donna are on the best of terms either," Henri added wryly.

Remy rolled his eyes. Of course Henri would bring _that_ up.

"We're on fairly amicable terms," Remy bit back defensively.

Henri laughed a lot louder and longer than Remy would have preferred.

"Remy, she threw a glass of eighteen year old, private stock Merlot in your face the last time you had a Guild conference with her!"

"So she overreacted just a little bit, that's all," Remy muttered sourly as Henri continued to laugh.

"What was it you said to upset her again?" Henri asked, "It was about her new suitor, wasn't it?"

Remy scowled. Henri knew exactly what had happened the last time Remy had met with the rival Guild's new Matriarch. Henri just enjoyed the fact that while Remy was named the new Patriarch of the Thieves Guild, Remy's controversial ex-lover, Bella Donna, was named the new Matriarch of the Assassins Guild.

"I simply told her that I thought her new beau was the poor man's version of me," Remy answered reasonably.

Henri was now snorting with laughter and practically rolling on the floor.

"But it's true!" Remy argued indignantly. "He's a dime store thief, wears a trench coat and his code name ends with an 'it'. I mean, _come on_. Bandit? Gambit? They even sound similar."

"You are unbelievably vain, Gambit." Henri observed.

"Anyways," Remy continued, trying to change the topic, "Belle won't even realize the chalice is missing. It's been locked up with the family heirlooms since Belle went into power. You know how she loves all things modern."

Henri settled back into business mode and nodded in agreement.

"That's clever, little brother, real clever. Anything from Candra is of value, so it's appropriate for Ettie to steal. Since Bella Donna couldn't care less about it, it'll be _easy_ to steal. It'd be different if Marius was still in charge."

"But he isn't," Remy reminded with a sly grin. "Et should be able to accomplish his Tilling and bring back something highly valuable."

Remy had been quite pleased with his plan. The older Thieves would appreciate Etienne acquiring something the Assassins had received as a gift from Candra, the original founder of the Guilds herself.

Back in the day, well before Remy's time and even Jean-Luc's father's, Candra had been a woman that the leaders of two clans had loved. A single woman had sparked a blood feud between two families. Two Guilds were born, the Thieves Guild and the Assassins Guild. And they'd been warring with each other ever since.

During the rein of Jean-Luc LeBeau and Marius Boudreaux, a plan had been concocted to unite the Guilds and end the blood feud through marriage...and that was how Remy had ended up with an Assassin for an ex-girlfriend.

Remy and Bella Donna Boudreaux had been very young when they had first met and had become fast friends, despite their family ties. They grew up together, and most of Remy's experimenting with things of a grown-up nature occurred with Bella Donna. They were young and having fun. At least that's what Remy had always believed, until he found out what their fathers had in mind. Both he and Belle had been barely eighteen when the marriage plans were brought to Remy's attention. As much as Remy liked Bella Donna, he had not wanted to marry her at all.

Marius had made the grievous or, depending on who's view, glorious mistake of asking Remy what his true intentions were with Bella Donna. Remy had answered Marius truthfully and perhaps a little too candidly about what he intended. To make a long story short, it had not been the correct answer or what Belle and her father had wanted to hear.

Remy had been chased off the Assassins' property with death threats, a screeching Bella Donna, and at least fifty armed Assassins. Needless to say, their impromptu breakup had started the blood feud all over again.

After that, it had taken Jean-Luc years to rebuild the shaky foundation of peace between the Guilds. Time proved to be the best healer of wounds, and although Remy and Belle would never unite the Guilds the way their fathers had envisioned, they could lead the separate Guilds now on rather benevolent terms.

It wasn't that Remy and Bella Donna didn't get along; it was just that with so much history between them, they were much happier disagreeing with each other. It made Belle happy to hate Remy, so he obliged. The Guilds had never gotten along as well as they did with Remy and Belle in power. In fact, their childish bickering back and forth actually kept the two Guilds at a somewhat peaceful consensus.

Since each had taken over the lead role of their respective Guild, there had been no feud-related deaths. For the first time in over a hundred years, the Guilds sort of got along or, at the very least, tolerated the other's existence without any serious antagonizing.

Henri read over Remy's proposal and was actually involved enough to spell-check it, mumbling that as Patriarch, Remy should bother to pick up a book once in awhile.

"It looks good," Henri commented when he finished reading. "The only thing I don't like is the safe house you've chosen."

"What's wrong with it?" Remy asked. "I've had that property since I was fifteen."

"Exactly," Henri replied. "If something goes wrong, Bella Donna's gonna track you first, and believe me, I'm sure she'll investigate your personal properties."

Remy bit his lip thoughtfully. He hadn't really thought of that. Being Patriarch was a lot harder than he had anticipated. Thankfully, Henri was around to casually point out possible errors in Remy's calculations. Henri was extremely practical and often quite shrewd, but lacked the certain diabolical and crafty behavioral traits that Remy had. _Not to mention, serious good looks_… Maybe Remy was a smidgen vain.

"Well?" Remy asked when Henri didn't shout out any ideas right away. "What property would you suggest as a safe house?"

It was obvious to Remy that his brother had no idea and was thinking on the spot, off the top of his head. Remy waited patiently. Sometimes Henri came up with the best ideas this way.

"How about the old Adler place up in the Garden District?" Henri suggested after a few minutes.

Remy's face fell in disappointment.

"You're joking, right? 'Cause I'm not sending Et off to some crazy, old lady's house. She smells like lilacs and moth balls and says the weirdest, creepiest things." Remy continued, lost on a tangent, "Dieu, do you remember that time she caught us on the street and she told us—"

"Old Ms. Adler's been dead for awhile now, Remy," Henri interrupted impatiently. "The place has been empty, but it's stayed off the market."

Remy smirked wickedly. "Why? Is the old bat haunting it?"

Henri gave him a reproachful glare.

"Mind your manners and respect the dead," Henri clipped sharply before continuing. "The house still belongs in the Adler family. Some niece inherited it, but never claimed the inheritance."

Remy bit his tongue and refrained from making any more cracks about crazy, old Irene Adler, although if he'd inherited the place, he'd avoid claiming it too.

Instead, he maturely asked, "How come the niece hasn't claimed it?"

"I don't know. I heard father talking about it with Tante Mattie, and apparently the niece is some runaway who took off from home about four or five years ago. The family's lawyers have been trying to track down her whereabouts," Henri answered. "The point is, the house is abandoned and it's highly unlikely—hell, I'd say damn near impossible—that anyone will find this Adler niece any time soon."

"So, we could use the house if need be and no one would be any the wiser," Remy added, catching on. "It has no connection to the Thieves and thus no one checking up on it to see if anyone's squatting there."

"Exactly." Henri beamed. "Now retype that written proposal, and for crying out loud, use the spell-check this time."

By early morning, and a half bottle of bourbon later, Remy had worked out Etienne's Tilling. Both he and Henri had checked it over to make sure that they were prepared for all possible outcomes—the good and the bad.

Remy stood at the head of the Thieves' main meeting hall dressed in his customary ceremonial robes. He didn't think he'd ever get used to wearing the Patriarch's traditional emerald green over his old magenta. Henri and their father stood on either side of him wearing the magenta robes, while a sea of violet robes flanked him. All the Thieves had come out to participate in Etienne's Tilling.

Etienne stood awkwardly, fidgeting with the silver brocade on his pale blue novice robe, facing Remy. Remy had to remain stoic and regal, but spoke to Etienne in his normal, encouraging tone of voice to give his cousin an added boost. Remy had never seen Etienne looking so nervous or out of sorts, and with good reason. Today was the day that would mark his fate for the rest of his life.

"Etienne Marceaux," Remy began formally, "today marks the day of your Tilling and like your father and mother before you, and the countless Thieves before them, today is your rite of passage and chance to earn the title of 'Thief'. Each man and woman standing within this room with you today has passed their Tilling and brings with them their love and encouragement for you to do the same on this day."

Etienne was now beaming excitedly and looking a lot less nervous. Remy had a good feeling about this. Etienne was ready, despite what everyone else may have thought. Remy knew in his heart that Etienne was ready.

Remy continued with the ceremony, "Let it be understood that should you fail in your Tilling that you will face banishment from the Thieves Guild and the title of 'Thief' will be refused to you."

"I understand, Rem—Patriarch," Etienne answered nervously, catching his slipup in how he addressed Remy.

"Because you are my cousin, and as such, in close relation to the Patriarch, you will always be considered family to our clan—regardless of your Tilling's outcome. In the event that you fail, you will be rendered merely common to us. However, you may still have contact with your family, but no longer have any ties to the Guild and its proceedings. Do you understand?"

"Oui, Patriarch," Etienne answered, squaring his shoulders.

"Are you reading to except your Tilling, Etienne Marceaux?"

"Oui, Patriarch."

The surrounding violet-clad Thieves broke out into raucous, loud cheers, and Remy smiled down at his cousin.

"Very well, Etienne of the Marceaux clan. I hereby announce your challenge." Remy spoke the words loudly and clearly as the room settled back down to its eerie silence. "You are presented with the task of stealing the ceremonial chalice of the former Assassins Guild's Patriarch, Marius Boudreaux. The object I seek is the very same chalice that has been handed down in the Assassins' clan for centuries and originally from the bewitching beauty, Candra, herself."

The room remained quiet with the sense of awe resounding in the air, and Remy knew he'd chosen an admirable task. Etienne paled slightly at his challenge and Remy caught him gulp nervously.

"I will bring you Marius Boudreaux's ceremonial chalice, Patriarch," Etienne answered with his voice just a little shaky.

Remy continued to smile warmly and encouragingly at his cousin as he handed Etienne the necessary written instructions outlining the task. Etienne's hands were shaking as he took the documents from Remy.

Remy leaned in quickly and whispered in his ear, "I have faith in you, Et. I never would have chosen anything that you could not do, or do well."

Etienne looked greatly relieved and flashed Remy a ghost of his usual smile.

"I will delay you no further from your task, Etienne," Remy finished, giving a slight bow.

Remy stepped back as the rest of the Thieves approached Etienne to wish him luck and give him hugs and other sentiments. Remy took the moment to glance over at his own father, Jean-Luc, and found his own relief when he caught his father smiling proudly at him. There was no doubt that Remy had done the right thing in finally allowing Etienne's Tilling.


	3. Chapter 3

**The members of the ROMY Round Robin** **team would like to thank all of you who have taken the time to review our story. Unfortunately, we will not be responding to the reviews because there are so many members of the group and it would take too much time. This chapter is brought to you by the talented Chellerbelle. Enjoy!**

For the umpteenth time in the last hour, Etienne checked his pockets to make sure he had everything. This was it. This was the night of his Tilling and he was as nervous as a rabbit in a lion's den. Actually, he felt a bit like a rabbit trying to break into a lion's den.

"Not helping," he muttered to himself.

He could do this. Remy thought he could do it and he was guild leader now, so that had to count for something, right?

Etienne took a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror.

"You can do this," he said to his reflection. "You've been over the plans a million times already. You know exactly what needs to be done and how to do it. Okay sure, you're stealing from the Assassins Guild. That's no big deal. So what if some of those guys would kill you as soon as look at you? They're not going to see you. It's just going to be in and out again, nothing to it."

He swallowed hard.

"Nothing to it," he repeated.

Etienne clapped his hands together and looked towards the clock; time to get going. He began to make his way out, but then decided just before he got out the door that he really needed to hit the bathroom. He did his thing, checked his pockets again, told himself off for stalling and finally got out the door.

Refusing to let himself think about it again, Etienne pulled on his helmet and got on his motorcycle. As he headed off to the meeting place, he checked the fuel gauge. Plenty full. Okay, good. He didn't have to worry about the fuel tank going empty on the way back or something.

Twenty minutes later, Etienne was pacing back and forth at the meeting place waiting for Remy to arrive, wringing his hands with anxiety. Remy did realise it was tonight, right? He hadn't forgotten or anything... had he? No, Remy always remembered him. He was the one person Etienne could always count on. Remy wouldn't forget him. Well, unless there was a buxom blond involved... or a brunette... or, well with Remy it didn't really matter what hair colour she had, as long as it was definitely a 'she'.

Yep, that's why Remy wasn't here. He'd forgotten all about Etienne's Tilling and was shacked up with some gorgeous redhead with long legs and a chest you could—was that a motor he could hear? Etienne turned towards the noise just in time to see Remy coming into view. Remy parked his motorcycle not too far from Etienne's own.

"Early as usual I see," Remy said with mild amusement.

"Yeah," Etienne nodded and checked his watch. "Oh, it's earlier than I thought."

Remy chuckled knowingly.

"Ready whenever you are."

"Oh right. We should get going."

Remy clapped his hand on Etienne's shoulder.

"You'll do fine, Et. Just pretend I'm not even here."

"Okay."

Etienne took a deep breath and turned toward the direction of the Boudreaux Mansion.

"Okay," he said again, this time with confidence.

He knew that Remy, as his Registrar, was only with him to observe. Nevertheless, there was something about his older cousin that seemed to inspire confidence in him and he was grateful to have him along.

With Remy close behind, Etienne slipped silently into the swamp. Not even a twig snapped under his feet as he made his way towards the Mansion. Only a few lights glowed forth from the windows, illuminating the black of night.

Keeping to the shadows, Etienne closed the distance to the Mansion. Barely metres away, he looked up and scanned the wall before him. He did not look directly at the couple of lighted windows, instead scanning the insides for movement with his peripheral vision in order to keep his eyes accustomed to the dark. He continued to watch the grounds as well as he sought to know where as many of the Assassins were as possible.

Finally satisfied, Etienne pulled out his grappling hook, along with the launcher. He checked to make sure the rope was secure, stepped out from behind the tree and aimed it towards the edge of the roof. He pressed the trigger and with a barely audible whirr, the hook shot through the air and landed softly. Etienne pulled the rope carefully as he walked over to the wall, dragging the hook to the edge until it anchored itself. He gave it another pull to test its stability. Once satisfied, he began the climb.

It would have been easier if the tree had been taller and closer to the wall, but the Assassins Guild had been dealing with the Thieves Guild for centuries. They knew all sorts of ways of foiling them. The thought gave Etienne pause. What if there had been a guard on the roof? Aww man, he hadn't thought of a guard being on the roof, great, just great. His Tilling and he was going to fail before he even began.

Etienne heard a gentle cough beneath him and continued to climb. Well, if there was a guard on the roof he'd just have to be sneaky and blackjack him or something. That's the kind of thing the Thieves did to guards. He could knock out an Assassin... right?

Fortunately, Etienne didn't need to find out. The rooftop was free of guards. He waited for Remy to join him, then pulled the rope and grappling hook up and put them away in his clothes. This done, he made his way to the door and inspected the lock. It looked simple enough. Or was it too simple?

With narrowed eyes, Etienne pulled out a pair of goggles from his clothes, set to see the infrared spectrum. Ah ha! A couple of red beams across the door, both neatly covering top and bottom of the lock. He'd have to break them to pick the lock. Once again he reach into his pockets and pulled out a couple of beam diverters, which were really just sets of three or more mirrors used to reflect beams around where you wanted your hand to go. He measured the distance between the beams with his hands then configured the diverters so he could hold them both with one hand.

Slowly, carefully he moved the diverters towards the beams. Etienne stopped abruptly when he realised his hand was shaking and he glared at them, willing them to stop. He couldn't position the diverters with shaking hands! He took another deep breath, chewed his lip and tried again. The diverters slipped into place and he paused a moment, but no alarm sounded.

With his free hand, Etienne pulled out his lock picks, unlocked and pushed open the door. As there were only two beams it was very easy to slip through the larger gap at the bottom, which he did as soon as he moved the diverters—carefully—away from the beams and back into his pocket.

Etienne crept down the stairs. He was halfway down the flight when he heard a noise and froze. There were people talking, but the words were muffled and Etienne decided they must be in another room. He continued down the stairs until he came to another door. Not seeing any further beams, Etienne put his goggles back into his pocket and pulled out his listening device—a circular object, which he pressed between his ear and the door.

Behind him, Remy watched while Etienne listened out for any noise on the other side of the door. Evidently he hadn't heard anything of interest, for his cousin soon put it away and opened the door. The next room—a hallway—was empty. Remy followed Etienne down the hall to the room he knew Bella Donna stored the family heirlooms in. The door was locked, but Etienne picked it easily and a moment later he was stepping inside. They closed the door behind them.

Etienne looked around apprehensively; so far, so good. Question was, where exactly in here would Bella Donna be keeping the chalice? All around him was antique furniture, cabinets, tables and chest full and covered with all sorts of knickknacks that would no doubt fetch some nice prices on the black market. Etienne's face lit up as his eyes fell on one cabinet in particular: in amongst the delicate tea set on display stood the prize.

The lock on the cabinet was pathetically easy, even insulting considering the valuables within. Etienne slid the door open quietly, reached in and with a growing grin on his face, wrapped his fingers around the coveted chalice. With much delight, he placed the chalice securely into a little black pouch he had brought for this purpose and put it in his pocket. He had done it!

Seeing the circular, dust free patch on the shelf reminded Etienne that the job wasn't over yet. He reached into another pocket and pulled out his jar of dust. He twisted the lid, turned it over and shook a little dust onto the clean patch. A little at first, then a little more, there! That should be enough.

Etienne closed the door again, then exchanged his dust jar with his spray on dirt. He locked the cabinet up again and sprayed over the patches wiped clean by his glove. Satisfied he'd covered his tracks, Etienne put the spray away and turned around. There was no hiding the huge grin on his face.

Remy resisted the urge to grin back. This was not yet the time for celebration. Instead he moved over and inspected the cover up. Yeah, that looked good. He gave his cousin a nod and Etienne headed for the door. Once again he pressed his ear up to the door with the listening device. Hearing no one, Etienne and Remy stepped out into the hallway and made their way back to the stairs.

They locked the second door on their way through and then locked the outside door from the inside after opening it. Etienne donned his goggles again. He slipped through the gap, waited for Remy to follow and shut the door, mindful to keep his hand away from the beams. The door clicking back into place made Etienne wince at the loudness of it.

At the edge of the rooftop, Etienne pulled out his grappling hook and rope again. He looked down making sure the rope wouldn't land across any windows and set the hook in place. After a check for sentries, Etienne dropped the rope, double-checked to make sure the hook was sturdy, and began his descent. After Remy joined him at the bottom, Etienne pulled out the remote, pointed it at the hook and pressed the button. On the rooftop, the spikes of the grappling hook retracted, causing it to fall from its place. Etienne caught it neatly and put hook, rope and remote back into his pockets.

Etienne and Remy moved stealthily away from the building and back into the swamp. Their eyes adjusted to the dark in front of them as they moved quickly and silently towards their meeting place. It wasn't until their motorcycles came into view that Etienne finally gave into his building excitement.

"Remy! I did it!"

Remy chuckled.

"Yes, yes you did," he nodded. "Don't sound so surprised. Didn't I say I knew you could do it?"

"Well, yes, but this is my Tilling. I'm allowed to be excited."

"Can't argue with that. So, we going to stand around chatting, or are we actually going to leave?"

"Hmm, I vote for leaving."

"That's leaving 2, staying 0," Remy joked. "The leaving has it."

"By a landslide." Etienne nodded. "Hey you wanna stop somewhere to celebrate?"

"The celebration comes after the ceremony is over."

Etienne gave Remy a pathetic look. Remy raised an eyebrow.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Remy said, smirking at Etienne. "That stopped being cute years ago."

"So, you admit I'm cute," Etienne replied as he stroked an imaginary beard.

"Sure, and then you grew up. If you're lucky, you may one day meet a fille who'll call you cute. She'll be lying but—"

"We gonna stop for drinks or not?"

"Yeah, sure."

* * *

The following morning, Etienne reached into the pocket of his trench coat. He figured he should put the chalice somewhere safe until his formal presentation. He frowned to himself when his fingers touched nothing but cloth. Okay, maybe he put it in another pocket. He'd been pretty sure he'd put it in that one but obviously he hadn't.

Etienne tried the next one, then the next and the next. Before long he'd started cleaning out his coat, his thief tools strewn all over the bed, pockets pulled inside out and a bunch of old receipts and other rubbish decorating carpeted floor. No little black pouch. No chalice.

Maybe he already put it in a safe place. Maybe he did that as soon as he came home last night and just forgot. That could have happened… Right?

Etienne started searched through his drawers, in the wardrobe, under the bed. Clothes on the floor were lifted (in some cases for the first time in months). He moved his search out of his bedroom and into the rest of his apartment. He checked over and under tables, opened cupboards and pulled up the cushions from the lounge. His panic rose with each failure.

Again he went through his apartment. Double checking. Triple checking. Looking in crazy places like the dishwasher and places it would never even fit, like his cutlery drawer. It had to be here. He knew it had to be here. He was so sure he had it with him when he got back last night. Well, closer to early this morning, but details!

Etienne ran down to the garage, his eyes scanning the hallway in the event he might have dropped it there. He took the elevator down and continued to scan all the way to his motorcycle. Neither the chalice nor the black pouch was in sight.

Behind him he heard a wolf whistle and whirled around. One of the neighbours was grinning at him.

"Forget something Et?" she asked, grinning at him.

Etienne looked down. He was still in his pajamas. He blushed furiously and ran back for the elevator, the woman's merry laughter following him. In the elevator, he ran his fingers through his hair. This was not good; definitely not good. The chalice had to be around here somewhere. He couldn't have lost it. His entire future rested on it.

Ten minutes later, Etienne was on his motorcycle, properly dressed and on his way to the bar that he and Remy had celebrated at. He was certain he had it when he came home, but as he couldn't find it there, a retracing of his steps was in order.

* * *

Remy sighed, put the paper down and made his way to the kitchen and his beloved coffee machine. Being the leader of the Thieves Guild was not all it was cracked up to be. For one thing, there was far more paperwork than actual thieving. Where was the fun in that? He just wanted to get out there and steal stuff. Imagine being a Thief and wanting to steal things. What a shocking concept.

Remy leaned on the counter and waited for the coffee machine to do its thing. Maybe he could start stealing things around the office. Coffee mugs, perhaps. Or he could start stealing pens. Yes, it was the perfect plot. Everyone knew pens always went missing. He could steal pens, and then when his went missing he could just use one of his pre-stolen pens. Brilliant! Remy laughed at himself. One of the best Thieves in the Guild, if not the best, and he was plotting to steal pens. It was a sad, sobering thought.

Just as he started pouring his coffee, Remy's phone began to ring. With his free hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. Etienne's name flashed up on the screen and he smiled as he answered it.

"Morning Et," he greeted.

"Hi Remy, umm… I… I kinda have some… Well, see, the thing is…"

"Okay, Et, calm down. Breathe some. You remember breathing? It's slightly important for doing this thing called 'living,'" Remy replied as he put the coffee jug down. "What's wrong?"

Etienne took a deep breath. "You remember last night right?"

"Yes…"

"And we did my Tilling?"

"Yes."

"That wasn't a dream was it? That actually happened?"

"Yes it did. I remember being there. What's this all about?"

"You did see me put the chalice into my pocket, right?"

"Yes. Etienne, what's going on?"

For a moment there was silence, then Remy heard Etienne mumble something he couldn't quite catch.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Remy said.

Almost weeping, Etienne spoke louder: "I lost the chalice."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again, this chapter is brought to you by Pennylane87 and Fostersb. Pennylane87 wrote the first part, Fostersb contributed the second. Hope you enjoy!**

Rogue squirmed a little in her plane seat and closed her eyes, trying to get some sleep. But the events of the last night kept running through her mind, replaying over and over in her head. No one had stopped her from leaving, and to be honest, she had expected Logan to be a little more understanding. However, the only person who questioned her decision had been the one she'd least expected, Katherine Pryde.

Rogue clearly remembered the look on Kitty's face last night, the kind of look she would've never expected.

_Flashback_

Rogue had taken a look through the window; Storm was talking with a group of new students. Amongst them was the little girl that had reminded her of a younger Kitty Pryde, the one that had asked her a few days ago why she was there if she was 'human'. A sad half-smile spread slowly across her face at the mere thought of the word. Technically she wasn't a mutant anymore, but did she feel human? Even after taking the Cure, she had kept her low profile and her lonely manner. What kind of human life was that?

Rogue had seen the kids showing Storm their powers and then had lowered her eyes to her own bare hands. Biting her lip, she had tried not to think about her powers; after all, they weren't there anymore so there was no reason to think about what could have been. It wasn't a secret that ever since her powers first manifested, Rogue had always seen them as a curse, not a gift as Professor Xavier insisted. Her life had never been the same since the day she absorbed Cody, and since taking the so-called Cure, she felt just as lost and lonely as she had that day. In Rogue's eyes, her mutation was something that not even the miraculous Cure had been able to remedy.

Lost in her thoughts, Rogue hadn't heard the slight footsteps behind her.

"So, the rumor is true," Kitty Pryde had said as she walked in Rogue's bedroom, while nodding at the packed bag on the bed. "You're leaving."

The green-eyed girl had turned around to find the one person she'd least expected, looking at her with questioning eyes.

"I really think I just need to get away from everything," Rogue had replied. "I've been thinking about this for a while now, you know." It had sounded dry but she didn't have to explain—especially not to Kitty Pryde. "And now... Now, the timing simply feels right."

"But you're coming back right?" Kitty had asked and Rogue noticed a hint of guilt in her eyes. "I mean if this is about Bobby, I never meant to—"

"It isn't," Rogue had cut her off abruptly. Kitty had lowered her eyes and Rogue had felt a little bad. After all, it hadn't been her fault...at least not entirely. "Look, Kitty. This ain't because you're dating Bobby. Things between us were over long before you came here."

"Is it because of the Cure?" Kitty had asked. "Because no matter what, you'll always belong here, Rogue. You're one of us and always will be."

"Yeah, I guess..." Rogue had replied rather sadly. "However, sometimes I feel that inside the Institute's walls we're living a dream, a dream that I'm not sure is worth fighting for. Sometimes I feel I don't fit in this place anymore."

"And so you're leaving?"

"Look, Kitty. When I decided to take the Cure I made my choice. I took it because I wanted to, because I wanted to have the closest thing to a normal life...I just was too scared to actually do it. Now I think I might have that chance. I just want some time alone to find it myself, to live the life I always wanted."

Kitty had given Rogue a sincere smile and then did what Rogue least expected. She had thrown her arms around her and hugged her. "Take care, Rogue."

"I will," Rogue had replied.

Yes, she was leaving. Leaving for good.

_End Flashback_

Rogue leaned against the window and took a look out of the plane, enjoying the tremendous view before her. She smiled. There was just something magical about the South, and even though New Orleans wasn't exactly her neck of the woods, she felt like she was home. As the plane finally landed in the Louis Armstrong International Airport, Rogue smiled contently to herself. She had made the right decision, and even if being by herself for the first time in years scared the hell out of her, she firmly believed that this was just the thing she needed to gain back her lost self-confidence.

* * *

Remy had not moved in hours. It was hours after getting the call from Etienne and he was still sitting at his desk, slowing shuffling his trusty deck of cards in his hands. Every so often the cards would slip, a sign of Remy's fatigue and the cramp that was now in his left hand. He had been shuffling for six hours in the hopes that the repetitive motion would help him solve the problem of the lost chalice. It didn't help. The only ideas left in his head were:

The chalice was gone and Remy was screwed.

Remy hated being the Patriarch.

Remy needed a drink.

Remy set the cards down and walked out of his office towards the living room. This was where Jean-Luc kept his best bourbon. Remy hoped that after some liquid nourishment, he would have the energy to think properly and devise a plan.

Walking into the living room, Remy spied Henri sitting in a leather high-back chair, reading a book and swirling a class of liquer.

"A little early for alcohol, mon frère, n'est-ce pas?1" Remy chuckled. "What? Did Mercy give you an earful last night?"

"Ah, Remy. You know that it is never too early to enjoy a fine cocktail." Henri grinned, raising his glass in salute.

"Well, if you are going to take my alcohol, do you want to take my job as well?" Remy asked with exasperation as he plunked himself in another chair.

Henri studied his brother for a few moments and could tell that Remy was worried. Though the signs were small, they were telling: his eyes seemed less bright, his skin a little pale, his shoulders hunched. All pointed to there being a huge problem in Remy's world.

"Remy, what be the matter? Did a woman finally turn you down?"

"I wish, Henri. I wish. Non, this problem is real bad," Remy softly replied in a monotone voice.

Henri was instantly on edge, Remy only used that tone when he was worried. "What, Remy? Tell moi," Henri insisted.

"He failed," Remy replied.

"What?" Henri asked with a confused expression.

"Well, no. He didn't _fail_," Remy started.

"You mean Et?" Henri interrupted. "That's great if he didn't. Then we can have the welcoming ceremony soon. Felicitations,2 Remy. You were..."

"He lost it, Henri," Remy interrupted. "He lost the chalice after he stole it."

"What? Weren't you with him? How could this happen? Where could it be? Why didn't you take it?" Questions were flying out of Henri's mouth and Remy was convinced that his head was starting to spin.

"Arête!3 Henri, I saw him with the chalice. We went out drinking as a celebration afterwards. I sent him home to sleep it off and this morning he called me in a panic. He told me he couldn't find the chalice."

"Well, did he check everywhere? The house, his bike, the bar?" Henri responded.

"Yep," Remy replied, his voice full of resignation. "You know Etienne wouldn't have called me without doing those things first. He is too thorough."

"Oh, Remy. Cela n'est pas bon.4 It has been decades since a Thief failed his Tilling and you know that this failure must result in his banishment. This does not reflect well on him, and it does not reflect well on you as Patriarch."

"Je sais!"5 Remy yelled at Henri. He didn't need his brother to remind him that he was a failure. As leader, Remy was responsible for the success of the Guild and therefore any Thief's failure was his own. He didn't want to think about how he had weakened the Guild, dishonored his family and gotten his cousin exiled from their family. It was all too much and Remy felt trapped. He leaned back, raking his hands through his hair, tugging the roots in frustration, hoping that he could extract the answer from his brain if he pulled hard enough.

"Mon frère, if you pull any harder you will become bald," Henri joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Remy stared for a moment and then smiled. Remy knew his brother's teasing was his way of demonstrating his love. It was Henri's subtle demonstration of his devotion and, for Remy, a sign that his brother would be there to support him.

"Henri, I would never do that, you are bald enough for the both of us," Remy ribbed, pointing to Henri's head, which was as smooth as a cue ball.

"Hey, Remy. Don't joke. This head has gotten me a beautiful woman. Mercy loves my simple look, says that it looks distinguished and loves to stroke her fingers..."

"Too much information, Henri," Remy stated, raising his hands in supplication.

"Remy, really you know that I will help you in any way that I can," Henri gently promised and Remy couldn't help but feel touched and grateful by his brother's words.

"Je sais, mon frère.6 Right now I am just not sure what to do. I have never failed before and so I have never had to plan for this circumstance. I didn't know what to tell Et, so I just have him sitting in his apartment waiting for my instructions."

"All right. Then the first thing that needs to happen is that Etienne needs to go to the safehouse," Henri said. "Hiding him away is the only way to ensure that questions will not be asked."

Remy raised his brows. "You mean we act like he is still on the job?"

"Exactement!" Henri exclaimed. "We keep Etienne out of sight at the Adler house and the Thieves and Assassins will not know a thing. We use the time to find the chalice and when we find it, Etienne can return home and we all celebrate his Tilling. He did technically steal the item so he does deserve his membership."

"Okay, but how do we find the chalice?" Remy asked, unable to hide the desperation in his voice.

Henri laughed, leaned in and touched Remy on the knee. "Boy, this stress has really knocked the sense out of ya. Remy, you and I, we be two of the best Thieves in the world. There ain't no way we can't find that cup. Think of it as our greatest heist yet."

Remy nodded in reply. The more he thought of the plan, the more excited he became. This would be a grand challenge and Remy always loved those. He could feel his inner Thief come out as his skin began to tingle in anticipation. Suddenly, all his nervousness and anxiety was washed away and replaced with exhilaration. One thing about this job, Remy could never say it was boring.

"But, Remy," Henri stated, pulling Remy out of his daydream, "I think that you should tell Theo. He deserves to know since he is Etienne's brother and guardian." Theo and Etienne's father, Belize, had died over five years ago. Since then, Theo had become his brother's keeper and was quite devoted to his safety.

"Bon." Remy nodded. "I will do that tonight, after I call Etienne and send him to the safehouse. I want him to get away as soon as possible. It is key that we start the search. If too much time passes, any leads might be lost."

"I will begin contacting some of my sources and spies to see if they have any knowledge. I should be able to gather information in the next couple of hours," Henri stated as he rose from his seat and headed to the door.

Remy followed quickly, anxious to get to Etienne and tell his cousin to move over to the Adler house.

As he was leaving, Henri turned and placed a hand on his chest. "Remy, you know that it will be okay. But I warn you, be careful of Bella. She doesn't need any more reasons to hate us and want to skewer you. Don't be foolish. Now is not the time to be overconfident and take chances. We can't afford to lose."

"Don't worry, Henri. I know what I am doing. Am I not the great Remy LeBeau?" Remy smirked.

"Glad to see the old swagger is back. I was almost afraid that I might have lost the arrogant bête I had so come to love. Though I have to admit that the women of New Orleans might have been a lot safer."

"Jamais, Henri.7 I could never deny my greatness. I am just too talented, too beautiful, to lie to the world." Remy smiled.

Henri scoffed and rolled his eyes. "One day, Remy, you are going to run into someone that doesn't fall for your charms, and mark my words, I am going to laugh as you fall on your ass."

Remy chuckled and started walking towards his office. He flipped out his phone and began dialing Etienne's number. As it was ringing, Remy turned and remarked, "I met a lot of women in my day, Henri. If I haven't met her yet, she don't exist."

1 Is it not?

2 Congratulations

3 Stop it!

4 This is not good.

5 I know

6 I know my brother.

7 Never Henri.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello again ROMY fans. Thank you to all the people who have continued to read and review our story. This chapter is brought to you by Pennylane87 and only Pennylane87. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 5 **

The weather was nice, definitely much hotter than New York, and Rogue suddenly realized how much she had missed it. In a certain way, the mansion in Salem Center, Westchester County, New York would always be home for her, but for a southern gal there was no place like the South. She wanted to start all over again, and New Orleans seemed to be the right place to do it.

"Well, here we are, petite," said the driver in a thick Cajun accent as the cab stopped. He turned to face Rogue. "That will be twenty-five dollars."

His voice interrupted her thoughts and Rogue looked up. The car had stopped in front of an old, white mansion with a white balustrade porch at Prytania Street and Sixth, in the heart of New Orleans Garden District. She took a look at the place as she handed the man a couple of bills and waited for him to help her with her luggage. However, not seeing much of a choice in that matter, she did it herself. As soon as she closed the door, the car took off, leaving her in the middle of the street. Hesitantly, Rogue opened the main gate and walked towards the front door.

"Well, here I am," she said to herself in a whisper. "Welcome home, Marie."

The inside surprised her greatly; it had more room on the inside than from what it looked like on the outside. The first thing she saw was a wide staircase with wooden banisters that led up to the second floor. Through one of the windows, she saw the back yard and made a mental note to cut the grass and plant some new flowers. What Rogue loved the most was a little pond at the back of the garden. Suddenly, Rogue thought she could actually be happy here and felt glad to be the sole heir of Aunt Irene.

Aunt Irene. How do you think about an aunt you don't remember? No matter how hard Rogue tried to think about the woman, neither a memory nor an image came to her mind. Truth to be told, Rogue didn't have many memories of her childhood, and the few she possessed were now merged with stolen memories from all the people she had absorbed in the past. Her mind was quite crowded, and even after the Cure, she often found herself reliving events she didn't recognize. So, as for Aunt Irene, there was nothing she could say; there was no feeling she could harbor, except maybe gratitude.

She had rather vague memories of the woman, and to be accurate, they weren't memories of her, but of her father mentioning her. He considered Aunt Irene a crazy, old woman and used to insist that his mother had been an only child. Truth was, he wasn't very accepting of the fact that she was 'different', something that had nothing to do with the fact that she was blind, but with her strange manners and odd behavior. Deep down, Rogue's father knew Aunt Irene was a mutant, but little did he know about his own daughter's mutation. Ironically, the last time Rogue had heard about Aunt Irene had been little before her powers first manifested.

Sniffing softly and holding back the upcoming tears, Rogue walked through the tiled hallway and to the kitchen, frowning a little when she noticed that all the curtains had been pulled down and replaced with some kind of thick gray paper. Rogue blamed the insurance company and made another mental note to call them and demand they fix it. However, when she entered the immense kitchen she couldn't help but let out a gasp.

"What the hell!"

The kitchen was a complete mess. It looked like it had been ransacked. Dirty dishes and glasses filled the sink. A couple of broken cups laid in pieces on the floor. Breadcrumbs were spilled everywhere, and there were some half-eaten fruits here and there. Pots and pans, which clearly used to hang over the counter, were on the stove and several empty bottles of bourbon were all over the place.

As she walked around the kitchen, she peeked into the trashcan and saw even more bourbon bottles and leftovers. The dinning area was covered with a bunch of papers and some type of large knife. No matter how weird or crazy Aunt Irene could've been, this wasn't her doing, especially since she had been dead for a month! Rogue cursed the insurance company and the damn contractors, or whoever was responsible of this.

"Guess respecting the place 'til I came here was too much to ask…"

Rogue went back to the living room and checked on the furniture. After what she'd just seen in the kitchen, she was more than determined to see if there was any more damage to her legally inherited property. Fortunately, the only 'damage' was in the kitchen, so she went upstairs.

After picking the room that was clearly the master suite, she set her luggage down. The queen-sized bed had a precious, antique brass base and the room had an interior white tiled bathroom. She could definitely get used to it. Then her eyes landed on a dresser at the far end of the room. She had seen it before. Somehow, she remembered it.

Carefully, she opened one of the drawers and the smell coming out from it brought back a bunch of blurred and long buried images of her childhood. She must have been around six years old and a nice, yet pretty odd woman was standing next to her, showing her some old photos. Rogue blinked, unable to retain the memories as they blurred, leaving emotions she couldn't name.

Suddenly she didn't feel like unpacking anymore. In fact, what she wanted the most was to get some air and clear her head. The sun was beginning to set. Soon the night would come, and with it, the soft glow of the moon and the distinctive sounds of the southern night. Unpacking could wait until tomorrow. Rogue decided to go out instead.

* * *

Bourbon Street was the heart of the French Quarter nightlife. It was crowded, full of bars, restaurants and jazz clubs. It exuded life. Walking down the street, looking for a nice place to eat, Rogue realized she'd forgotten how much she really missed these kinds of places; nothing like these up north. The smell of authentic southern food wafted from the restaurants and jazz music oozed through the club walls and into the night. This wonderful city was going to be her home for a while now, so what a better way to live it than being a part of it.

Finally, Rogue entered a nice little restaurant. It was rather simple, in comparison to the others she had seen, but it was the least crowded and, apparently, hardly known to tourists. Not that she was afraid of crowds, not now with her powers gone. It was just that after years and years of fears and seclusion, some habits were a big part of her, even to the point of defining who she was.

Shortly after taking a seat, a blonde girl in her late teens and dressed in black shorts and a white t-shirt with the restaurant's green logo, came to take her order. She smiled at Rogue and her ponytail swayed from side to side.

"Can I take your order?" she asked with a smile, pulling out a little notepad and a pen.

Rogue ordered a bowl of jambalaya and some iced-tea and the smiling waitress disappeared behind the bar. She emerged a few moments later with a jar of iced tea and a clean crystal glass full of ice and then returning shortly after with her order. The jambalaya was delicious and perfectly seasoned; it was smoky and just spicy enough to savor every mouthful. After she finished eating, Rogue sat at the place for a while, just staring around, drinking her iced tea and relishing every minute.

The place was almost empty. In fact, besides her there were only a middle-aged couple to her left and two men at the back of the place. Rogue stared at them.

They were involved in a deep conversation, paying no mind to the world around them. One of them, the shorter one, had dark blonde hair, a cigarette between his lips and was dressed all in black, except for his denim jacket. His friend, on the other hand, was clearly taller and had more brownish disheveled, hair that fell just above his shoulders. He wore a brown trench coat. She couldn't see his face since he had his back to her, but the blonde one raised his eyes and noticed she was looking right at them. Obviously embarrassed, Rogue lowered her eyes when she saw the way he was staring back at her and redirected her attention to the empty glass in her hands. Luckily for her, the blonde waitress came with the bill at that exact moment.

"Anything else?" the waitress asked as she placed the bill on the table before gathering up the empty bowl.

"Uh, no," Rogue replied, as she handed her the glass. "Thanks."

She paid and walked towards the entrance, turning around one last time before leaving only to notice the blonde man still looking back and grinning cockily at her.

Back at the table, the younger man noticed the grin on his cousin's face and let out a frustrating sigh.

"Theo?" Remy asked in annoyance. "Merde, homme, are you even listening?"

"Quoi?" Theo replied absently. "Désolé, mon cousin, I've just seen the most pretty fille."

"You say that all the time."

"Maybe," Theo said finally and quit looking at the door through which Rogue had left. He smiled back at Remy. "But this time I meant it."

"Yeah, you say that all the time too," Remy said, trying hard not to lose his temper.

"Oui, mais—"

"Enough!" Remy cut him off. "We're talking about some serious issues here, homme. Pretty serious, to be more accurate."

"Désolé, Rem—Patriarch," Theo replied, embarrassed. How could he forget that Remy was no longer just his little cousin, but the Master of the Thieves Guild, and as such, he had to respect him.

"It's not an official meeting." Remy smiled. "You don't have to call me that, Theo. Besides, you know I don't like it."

"Désolé—"

"And quit saying you're sorry! I'm not your confessor." That made Theo let out a faint laugh. "Look, we need to figure out a way to help Et. Just don't mention this to anyone else," Remy said before adding, "At least not yet... Got it?"

"Oui." Theo nodded like a scolded child. "Does anyone else know?"

"Just Henri."

Both men remained in silence for a couple of minutes. The problem with Etienne's failed Tilling was a big one, especially because it didn't just affect him, but also Remy as his Registrar and Guild Master. It affected the whole family, since important decisions had to be taken. However, Remy felt Theo deserved to know before the rest of the Guild. After all, he was Etienne's older brother.

The tension in the table was so palpable that it could be cut with a knife. So after downing his drink in a gulp, Remy decided to change the subject in order to ease the moment as much as possible, and what a better subject for Remy LeBeau than women?

"So," Remy said to his cousin. "How beautiful she was?"

"Very." Theo smiled widely.

"That much, hein?" Remy chuckled at his cousin's face. Could the girl really be that beautiful?

"You must have seen her, Remy: the face of an angel and a body made for sin...but you know what?" Theo said, having second thoughts. "I'm glad you didn't see her, otherwise I'd never have a chance with her."

Remy laughed loud at Theo's words. "And what makes you believe you would? I may have not seen her today, but..." Remy then turned around and motioned to the blonde waitress to come over. "Hey chère, come here." She did as told and in an instant was standing next to their table. "The girl that has just left..."

"What about her, Remy?" the young blonde asked with a flirty smile.

"Did she say anything?" Theo asked. "Is she from around here? Tourist maybe?"

"New in town, just arrived from New York, lives a few blocks from here," the girl answered, counting each word down with a finger into the palm of her hand.

"Oh." Remy smiled. "A pretty northern girl."

The girl shook her head. "Uh-uh," she denied. "In fact, she's from Mississippi. She might have lived up north but she still has her Mississippian accent."

Remy's smile became wider then. "Nothing like a belle southerner, hein?" he said before turning towards Theo and adding. "You may be right, Theo. I'm looking forward to meet our new resident."

* * *

It was strange to wake up in a new bed and in a new place, especially after years of routine. Rogue even needed a minute to remember where she was and why she was there. It was kind of odd being the owner of an entire old house. At least that was how Rogue thought about it as she yawned and stretched.

She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep, but judging by the sunlight hitting her in the face, she was sure that it was past noon. Not that she didn't remember going to bed, it was just that she hadn't slept very well. In fact, she was sure she had heard some noises in the early hours of the morning, but she blamed it on the wind and the nervousness of her first night in New Orleans.

Rogue stretched in bed and rubbed her eyes as she sat up. It was another morning, another day in her new life, and another chance for anything to happen. Which reminded her about a little something left behind. She took her phone and dialed.

"Hey, this is Logan. You know what to do."

"Hi, Logan. It's me. Just to tell you where to pick up your bike: Newark International Airport. Sorry about that. Love you."

Rogue got out of bed, put on a pair of white slippers and a grey loose cardigan and went downstairs. The morning sun was streaming through the window, lighting up the entire place. As she left the room, she saw her luggage still packed. It was going to be a long day.


	6. Chapter 6

**I apologize for the late posting, the holidays have been killer. This chapter is brought to you by Star of Chaos.**

It seemed to be a fact of life that a young man, no matter how good his upbringing was, when left to his own devices will have the housekeeping skills of a chimpanzee, and Etienne Marceaux was no exception. Growing up he had never dared to have a messy room and, when visiting his cousins, it would have been risking his life to leave a mess anywhere in Tante Mattie's vicinity, but now that he was pretty much on his own, Etienne found himself leaving dishes in the sink because he didn't want to bother washing them, leaving the trash baskets to overflow because he couldn't find the motivation to empty them, and generally just being a slob. The fact that he was in the midst of a major depression didn't help things any.

It was a shame, too, because it really was a beautiful house. Despite his misery, Etienne had been able to take a moment to admire it when Remy first brought him here. He'd been surprised that the Guild even had this house, but then Remy had explained that it really wasn't theirs and that they were just 'borrowing' it since the actual owner didn't seem to want it. He remembered old Ms. Adler; despite being weird, if not downright crazy, she had been nice too sometimes. Etienne had never told his cousins or even his brother about this, but once when he was a child he had snuck over to this house out of curiosity and hid in the bushes. The housekeeper had heard him outside and was in the process of kicking him off the property, almost literally, when Ms. Adler had come out onto the porch and invited him in for cookies. Along with the cookies there was nice cold milk, and Ms. Adler had sat at the kitchen table with him and asked how his family was, almost like she knew them. The really weird part came when she told him she thought he had his mother's looks, which was strange because A: he didn't think Irene Adler would have known his mother, and B: the old woman was completely blind. She was gone now and Remy said that the woman's heir, some niece, was nowhere to be found, and this was a good thing because no one would ever think to look for Etienne here, and the last thing that he wanted right now was to be found.

He still couldn't believe this was happening. It was all going so well; the job had gone off without a hitch, and he and Remy had gone out to celebrate. Etienne still couldn't figure out where he could have lost the chalice. He didn't think he had gotten drunk enough that he wouldn't have noticed dropping something like that, but the fact remained that the chalice was gone and he didn't have a single clue as to where it could be. And instead of celebrating his Tilling with his friends and family, Etienne was hiding out here in an abandoned old house while his cousin figured out what to do. He already knew what would happen though. If that chalice wasn't found, he would be banished from the Guild, which was nearly on the same level as getting kicked out of his family. _Could be worse, I suppose, _Etienne thought to himself. _Remy could make me tell Bella Donna that I lost her chalice_.

Etienne couldn't imagine what he would do with himself if he wasn't part of the Guild. He'd have to be kept out of Guild business, which made up a good chunk of the average conversation in his family, live a so-called 'normal' life…even get a _job._ He couldn't picture himself working an average, 9-5, legitimate position. It was just completely against his upbringing. He kept telling himself not to worry, that the chalice would be found and everything would be okay, but a little pessimist deep down inside kept whispering that he was wrong, that it wouldn't be found, and he would be banished.

His first night in the house, he had gone out to the local liquor store and made off with a couple of bottles of bourbon. Etienne thought maybe some kids or bums or somebody had been in the house previously, because there had already been a bit of a mess there before he added to it, as well as several bottles in the trash. So wallowing in self-pity, he didn't see any problem in adding to the mess, figuring he'd clean it up later. Several hours later, full of bourbon and a meal he'd cooked up for himself from the provisions he and Remy had picked up on the way to the house, Etienne stumbled upstairs and crawled into one of the bedrooms towards the back of the house. He could have taken the master bedroom, but the idea of sleeping in the same bed that Irene Adler had slept and probably died in was rather creepy. The room was dusty from disuse, and the bedding was a bit stale, but it was comfortable and quiet and Etienne passed out almost the minute his head hit the pillow. At one point in the day he woke up, having thought he heard a noise in the house, but then just rolled over and fell back asleep. When he finally did get up, he had a headache that may not have been bad enough for strong men to swear off drinking, but it was bad enough for him to at least consider it awhile. His mouth was dry, his tongue felt fuzzy, and his head felt like it was going to explode.

Etienne opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The sunlight coming through the window felt like it was stabbing into his head, increasing the volume on the drumbeat going on in his skull. _And this was supposed to make me feel better? _he thought to himself. Well, he wasn't feeling any better, but the pain had certainly become a priority over the rest of his problems.

Etienne shifted in the bed to get the sun out of his eyes and was immediately made aware of a new problem: his bladder felt like it was going to burst. He hadn't planned on getting up; with the way his head hurt, staying in bed had seemed like a pretty good idea, but now he had no choice in the matter. Bracing himself for the worst, he sat up and wasn't disappointed. The pain in his head cranked up several notches, and to add to the fun, his stomach began to churn. Nearly falling out of the bed in his haste, Etienne rushed clumsily out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom, where he proceeded to answer the various demands of his body. Several minutes later, he rested his forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink and closed his eyes, already feeling a little of the tension release from his head.

"….urgh……" Was about all he could come up with to sum up his feelings at the moment. Okay, so far so good. He was up; he was out of bed. His most immediate needs had been met. A shower would probably be the next best step. The porcelain felt so good against his head right now though, he'd get up a minute.

It was about five minutes later when Etienne got himself up and stumbled into the shower, remembering to take his clothes off first. The shower turned out to be an excellent idea because while his head still hurt afterwards, he felt clean and not quite so fuzzy-minded. In fact, he felt better enough that he decided he could try going downstairs and finding something to eat, or at least a glass of water.

After making his way back to his bedroom, Etienne got dressed and noticed that the sunlight that had streamed into his eyes earlier must have been the setting sun, because it was now dark and he could see lights on in some of the neighbors' houses. He was a little annoyed at having slept the day away, but it wasn't like he had a schedule right now anyway so he shrugged it off and went down to the kitchen to find something to eat or drink.

The mess downstairs reminded Etienne of his depression earlier and why he had been drinking. Still not finding the motivation to do anything about it though, he disregarded the bottles lying around, rinsed out a glass, and poured himself some water from the faucet. It wasn't too cold, but it was wet and his body was so grateful for it that he ended up drinking half the glass at once. Any thought he might have had regarding food though disappeared when he looked over the dirty dishes in the sink, some still covered with bits and pieces of food and with the occasional fly crawling over them. It was probably for the best though; despite having worshipped the porcelain goddess already, he still didn't think he was quite ready for food yet. Instead, he took his glass of water and went out the back door where he found a porch swing that looked like it had seen better days. Etienne sat down on the swing and rocked gently; it was relatively quiet in this part of the neighborhood and he could hear crickets chirping out in the grass. It was all very peaceful, but Etienne missed his family already. He was used to the bustle and activity of the Guild, and this was just too quiet for him. Somehow, they just had to find that chalice. To live with a major chunk of his life cut away like this would be too much to take.

Etienne sat and rocked for awhile, drinking his water. Eventually he went back into the kitchen and returned with some bread, but it didn't stay down for too long and he ended up in the downstairs bathroom a little while later. All this didn't help his head at all, and he mentally kicked himself for not having grabbed some aspirin or something like that at the store when he was there with Remy earlier. There was no way he could go now though; Remy would kill him if he left the house. So he returned to the porch and laid out on the swing for a while longer, until repeated yawning convinced him to go upstairs and go back to bed, and other than getting up once to use the bathroom, slept the rest of the night away without incident.

* * *

Etienne was once again awakened by the sun coming in through the window, but at least it wasn't setting this time, and he was happy to have not slept another day away. He was even happier to find that his headache had gone away and that his stomach was no longer trying to rebel on him. It definitely looked to be a better day than yesterday. Maybe he should find himself something to do to keep himself busy. Cleaning the kitchen might be a good start; that really was a mess that he had left in there. Feeling better today despite all the crap that had gone on in the past couple of days, Etienne got up and got dressed, ready to keep himself occupied by some other method than drinking.

It wasn't until he had reached the bathroom and prepared to do his thing that he first heard a noise downstairs. It sounded like someone was walking around. Quickly zipping up his pants, Etienne moved over to the door and opened it just a crack. It was probably just Remy coming to check up on him, but he couldn't take the chance that the Assassins had discovered their chalice missing and come after him already too. After listening a moment, he decided that it couldn't be Remy; his cousin would have called to him upon coming in. Who could it be then? Etienne was quite positive that if it was an Assassin he wouldn't be hearing any footsteps at all, just the quick intake of his own breath as a knife slid between his ribs.

Already chilled by this thought, he froze when he heard the person start coming up the stairs. Etienne had nowhere to run; the person would have a clear view of him if he left the bathroom to go back to his room, and the old boards of the house would creak like crazy if he ran. Fearing suspicion if he closed it all the way, Etienne left the bathroom door ajar and opened the door to the linen closet inside the room, which he already knew from his explorations was very spacious. Once inside the closet, he closed the door quietly and waited, wondering what to do next.

The person went into one of the other rooms for a minute, but then came back out. Etienne heard the footsteps come closer to the bathroom. He thought he'd have a heart attack when the door was pushed open the rest of the way and the person walked in. The door was then closed. Through the crack in the door to the linen closet Etienne could finally see the stranger. He couldn't believe it when he saw…a girl?

But not just any girl; she was beautiful! The two-toned hair was a little odd, but it wasn't really that different than some of the other things girls were doing to their hair these days, and besides, on her it kind of worked. Etienne cringed in embarrassment though, thinking that he was trapped in a bathroom with a girl while she was probably going to…But then he noticed the towel and robe on her arm and saw that he was wrong. It was worse than that. She was going to take a shower and he was stuck in the closet. He supposed most guys would kill to be where he was right now. In fact, he was sure that Remy would, but Etienne couldn't help but feel embarrassed and more than a bit guilty that this girl, whoever she was, was going to have an audience without knowing it.

And that was a good question. Who was she, anyway? Having a robe and towel with her, she looked quite at home. Etienne would have to figure out a way to make himself known to her without scaring her too badly. For now though…

He'd intended to close his eyes when she started getting undressed; honestly he did. But she had such beautiful white skin underneath her clothes, such long and slender legs; Etienne couldn't help but watch, totally enthralled. He'd never seen a girl get undressed before, other than in the movies and at that strip club his brother and cousins had taken him to once, but this was different. It was real, unrehearsed, and innocent, and that combination made it erotic for him. Etienne swallowed hard, his mouth and throat having gone completely dry. His heart sped up and he watched helplessly as the girl finished getting undressed and stepped into the shower. He heard the water start and tried to think of what to do next. First thing, of course, was to get out of this linen closet, then he could…Well, what could he do? He was stuck here; he didn't dare leave for fear of running into members of either Guild. He also didn't dare stay in this bathroom a minute longer either. Finally deciding to figure out what to do once he'd gotten back to the privacy of his bedroom, Etienne put his hand on the door to push it open…

…and found it stuck. Whether it be old age, or humidity or what, the latch was stuck and the door wouldn't open. _Greeeeaaat, now what am I supposed to do? _Etienne thought to himself. He figured he probably still had a few minutes; the girl had just started her shower and with that long hair it would probably take her a couple of minutes just to wash it. The noise of the water would also cover any sound he made with the door, so Etienne took a chance and shook the closet door, trying to shake whatever was stuck loose. But no luck; the door held fast and Etienne panicked. There was no way on earth he could let himself get caught in this closet by a girl coming out of a shower. He shook the door again and again, but to no avail. Finally he went for broke and hit the door. It pushed open for him, and Etienne stumbled out.

The noise must have been louder than he thought because as he broke free from the linen closet, the water in the shower stopped and he heard a scream as the girl stuck her head around the curtain.

"WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?" the girl yelled, clutching the curtain around her body. It had only a slight frosted shade to it though, and it didn't really do much to hide what she looked like underneath.

Etienne froze. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried out, cringing back against the bathroom door. He was going to hell for sure; Tante Mattie would skin him alive for peeking on girls in the shower. "I was already in here, but you were coming up the stairs and I didn't want you to find me," he stammered, trying not to look at her with just the curtain wrapped around her wet body.

The girl glared daggers at him and Etienne cringed a little more. Not only was he a trespasser in the house but she now probably thought he was a pervert as well. Watching him warily, she carefully stepped out of the shower and wrapped the robe around herself, stepping out of the curtain once she had the robe tied securely around her waist. Once clothed, she stepped toward him, one hand curled up in a fist.

"Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my house?" she demanded, her southern accent thickening with anger. The girl grabbed Etienne by the collar and slammed him back against the door. He tried carefully to push her away, not wanting to hit a girl, but she refused to budge.

"Why did you go and mess up my kitchen like that?" she continued, not waiting for an answer to her previous questions.

"It wasn't me!" Etienne squeaked in terror, horribly embarrassed at having been caught like this, but then recovered his voice. "Well, not completely anyway." _If I'd drank all that bourbon, I'd have died of alcohol poisoning._

The girl glared at him for a moment. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't call the cops on you right now," she snarled.

"Would you believe me if I told you I was hiding from a bunch of assassins?" he asked.

The girl shook her head. "No."

Etienne scratched the back of his head. "Damn." _Well, so much for telling the truth. _

* * *

She was going to kill Remy LeBeau.

It wasn't the first time that Bella Donna had said that to herself, both seriously and in jest, but this time she meant it.

She supposed she should thank the maid; the girl's family had served the Guild of Assassins for years but the girl herself was new to the job, and if she hadn't broken that teacup, Bella Donna would never have known that the chalice was missing. But the housekeeper had gone on a cleaning spree and taken the maids with her. Bella Donna didn't know what had possessed the woman to assign a new girl to the job of cleaning the storage room but she had, and the girl had proceeded to drop and break a teacup from a set that was an heirloom in the Boudreaux family. Fearing retribution, the housekeeper had run to get her Matriarch immediately. Bella Donna wasn't too upset about the teacup; it was a lovely set, but honestly, who sits around these days and drinks tea anyway? No, what upset her was the empty space in the midst of the tea set where her family's chalice should have been. The real heirloom of the collection, the chalice, had been given to the Assassins by Candra herself, and its disappearance was not to be taken lightly.

It had to have been the Thieves. Nobody else had the skill, or the audacity, to break into the heart of the Assassins Guild and steal something as important as that chalice. Bella Donna noticed the dust that still covered the shelf; the girl hadn't gotten to the chalice yet when she had dropped the cup, but Bella Donna didn't believe that the crime wasn't a recent one. The dust was too perfect, as if the chalice had never been there in the first place, and Bella Donna knew that wasn't true. No, the chalice was gone and she knew that the only people who could have done it were the Thieves. Perhaps Remy himself? She couldn't imagine him sending someone else into his former lover's stronghold: it was such an intimate act somehow. And what did he want with the chalice, anyway? Was this just his version of a joke, or was there something more devious up the sleeve of his trench coat?

"Whatever it is, he's not getting away with it." Bella Donna muttered under her breath, and picking up one of the other tea cups in the set, hurled it against the wall where it landed with a rather satisfying smash. "REMY!" she snarled, wishing it had been his head instead.

Noticing her assistant and one of her lieutenants standing near the door, she barked orders to them to start hunting down the people responsible and stalked out the door, already thinking about what she'd do to Remy or whichever Thief was responsible once she got her hands on him.


	7. Chapter 7

**The chapter is written by the wonderful aiRo25. Neither she, nor any of us on the team, own Rogue, Remy, the X-men movie or anything related to the X-men. This has been true since the beginning of the story and will continue to be true. Have a great Christmas and New Year. The ROMY meeting is coming soon.**

Rogue glared at this intruder. He looked worried and confused, and he was still trying to wriggle out of her grasp.

She tightened it. "Stop squirming!"

"Will you just listen?" he asked. He put on a good pair of puppy dog eyes, Rogue had to admit.

But that didn't make her more amenable.

"All right, mister," she said sweetly, sidling up closer.

He gulped.

"You talk and I'll listen. You'll tell me who you are, what you want, why you're in my house, and why I shouldn't kill you." She considered threatening him with her now defunct mutation but opted for simply not touching him, in case she decided to later.

"Can we have this interrogation somewhere else?" he asked, the slight squeak in his voice giving away his age. "You know, than the bathroom?"

It was a dangerous thing to remind Rogue of why she felt like killing him, and her response was to shove him through the door at high velocity and out into the hall before following him out with his death wish in her eyes.

"Um..."

"Up," she ordered. "Over to the living room. Now."

He went and stood not upon the order of his going.

* * *

Remy and Henri were quite busy in the office of the Guildmaster when a polite young maid knocked timidly on the door.

"Rems." Henri knocked his brother on the shoulder with a grin. "It's one of your many admirers."

Remy just rolled his eyes and gestured the girl in. "Oui?"

"Bonjour, monsieur." The maid curtsied politely. "The Guildmistress of the Assassins is here to see you."

Remy and Henri both straightened up in absolute horror, but neither showed it on their face. Henri cast a quick, worried glance in Remy's direction, which he ignored.

"Tell her I'll be in shortly and it's a pleasure to receive her."

"Oui, monsieur." The maid curtsied again and went out.

"And what are you going to do about this, homme?" Henri demanded.

Remy groaned. "What am I supposed to do? I'm going to go down, talk to her—"

"Find out what she wants," Henri cut him over, "and lay the charm on real thick. Comprenez?"

Remy thought about pointing out that he could give a little more respect to the Guildmaster, but since Henri was his older brother and helping to keep Etienne out of exile, he decided to let it go.

"Je comprends," Remy said absently, then he thought of Bella Donna and her notable temper and winced.

* * *

"Name."

"Etienne," he replied meekly from his position on the couch. The girl was marching back and forth on the living room rug, swinging a heavy cast-iron skillet with three fingers on one hand, the other arm crossed in anger. Etienne kept his eyes firmly on the skillet and swung his head well back whenever it approached.

The girl stopped and turned to him, narrowing her eyes. "_Full_ name."

Etienne swallowed hard. Remy would kill him if he knew how much information Etienne was handing out. "Etienne Marceaux," he said weakly.

"The kitchen." She went back to pacing.

"Well, I did a little of it, but most of it was bad when I got here." He was fudging, but that skillet was awfully close to his head.

She snorted, whether in disbelief or indignation, he wasn't sure. "Bathroom." She glared daggers at this point.

"Désolé! I didn't mean to be in there when—"

"Why were you in there at all?" she demanded, cutting him over. "Why didn't you yell or close the door or _something?"_

Etienne cringed under her rampage. "I _meant_ to."

"You meant to." She gave him the most pitying look, the one usually reserved for poor fools that don't know they were talking themselves into an early grave.

"Désolé," he pleaded again. "I was going to use the bathroom and I heard someone coming and I got scared and hid in the closet."

"I see."

"You could've been an Assassin," he said, while praying to every saint that Remy wouldn't find out he was saying it.

The girl blew out her breath in a long sigh and a white strand of hair flew back to stick against the brown. She gave him that pitying expression again. "Assassin. Me. Do I look like an assassin?"

"Uh..." Etienne was fairly certain there was absolutely no answer to that question that wouldn't get him in trouble, and his eyes returned involuntarily to the iron skillet swinging from her fingers.

Rogue followed the Etienne's gaze to her hand and repressed a grin. Truth be told, it was kind of flattering to know someone still thought she might be someone to be reckoned with. Ever since getting so left out of all the X-Men activities, she had been relegated to the harmless human. Who would ever have thought killer skin could do something for the ego?

"All right," she said and resumed pacing. "Assuming I do believe that you've got assassins hunting you down...Why are they after you and why are you in my house?"

"I'm on my Tilling," he stuttered, eyes still fastened on the skillet.

She deliberately brought it a little closer and his eyes widened. "Tilling?"

Panic flitted over his face and he tried very hard not to squirm. "Well, um...you see, I'm a Thief, or I will be one, at least if I don't get killed, and if they find the chalice, and if the Assassins don't kill me, and—"

Rogue groaned aloud. She pulled over the ottoman and sat down on it. "Start at the beginning. You've got to be the worst storyteller on the face of the earth. And I _still_ ought to kill you for peeping." She laid the skillet across her knees.

His mouth clamped shut, the teeth clacking together.

She raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"I stole the chalice from the Assassins, the one that Candra gave them, and now I can't find it, but if they find out it's missing, they're going to kill moi." He spoke quickly in a single gulp and Rogue frowned, having to sort out all the words. "This is a safehouse," he said. "No one ever came here and the Assassins wouldn't think of it."

_That_ made sense. "This is _my_ house," she said hotly. "My aunt left it to _me_."

"We thought you didn't want it," Etienne said miserably.

Rogue huffed, crossing her arms, with a hefty sigh. She pondered the details she'd gotten out of him so far. Apparently, there were assassins and thieves involved, but he wasn't a thief yet, and he had stolen from the assassins in some sort of initiation. And she was his only safe bet on staying alive. A small smile curved up her lips. This sounded like just the sort of adventure she'd been left out of ever since taking the Cure and definitely like something worth looking into.

"I'm Rogue," she said graciously, unbending somewhat from her haughty executioner role. "Now let's see if I have this right, and you fill in all the gaps."

"I'm not supposed to talk about it, you know," he said, hesitantly, his eyes begging her.

Rogue snorted inelegantly. "I can save those assassins the trouble, you know."

"Non, I'll talk, I'll talk." Etienne held up his hands in a warding gesture.

"Good."

* * *

Bella Donna Boudreaux had presence. She was a Master Assassin, a queen in her own world, and she knew how to wield the weight of her influence in a room. Remy found her waiting for him in the sitting room on the sofa. She wore her Matriarch's cloak, spread out over half of the sofa, her arms leaning on the back. She didn't bother looking at him when he came in. Everything about her breathed that she had him by the throat and was just waiting to spring the trap.

"Bonjour, Bella. And how is the Guild treating you?" He started out somewhere innocuous, an implied compliment on her promotion to Matriarch. But Remy knew this visit was anything but innocuous and he delivered his implied compliments from the doorway.

Bella Donna appraised him coolly, at least outwardly. He could guess at the gleam in her eye that she was stewing in her boiling temper and only her professional interest in a kill could generally temper _that_. Not a good sign.

"Bonjour, Guildmaster," she replied.

Remy winced. It was worse than he thought. He gave an internal sigh, then entered the room and sat in his father's favorite wing-backed chair. Besides being comfortable, it was the only piece of furniture with enough height and presence to outweigh the astute usage of the sofa. And so they sat facing each other, perfect equals, once lovers, and one currently very irate Assassin.

Remy thought sourly that his day could hardly get any worse.

"Knowing your recent appointment to administration,"—she paused there, drawing out the word in an implied insult impossible to ignore—"I thought perhaps you were feeling...restless. It must kill you to be out of the field." She tipped her head toward him, leaving an opening.

Remy did some quick calculations in his head. This had to be about the chalice. But from what she was saying...He frowned. She thought _he_ had stolen the chalice.

He gave her an easy one-shouldered shrug. "You always said they'd give me the top billing one day." He'd often wondered when she said it if that was why she was interested in him.

But the comment wiped any forced pleasantness from Bella Donna's face. "I've come here on a personal matter," she said, blue eyes burning into him. "I'm certain a Thief is responsible."

"Oh?"

This was a serious thing to bring an accusation of a Thief. Remy wondered that she could do it so certainly. His mind backtracked through the entire Tilling with Etienne, trying to find anything his cousin had done wrong. Outwardly though, Remy fixed Bella with a look to remind her to tread carefully. The last thing either wanted was to reignite the war between their Guilds.

Bella Donna raised an eyebrow in return. "I very nearly married a Thief, Remy. I know the signs."

So it was Remy now, was it?

"State your case," he said, waving his arm magnanimously, earning a furious glower from the Assassin.

"A very personal possession of mine was stolen," she stated bluntly, still scowling. "I want it returned. Something you _Thieves_ specialize in." She managed to infuse the word with more condescension and disgust than ever Marius had done.

"What possession would that be?" Remy queried flatly. She certainly wouldn't read any guilt off of him.

Bella Donna studied him intently.

He gave her a wicked grin. "See something you like?"

The blue eyes narrowed. "The chalice."

He looked at her with surprise. "Marius' chalice?"

"Candra's chalice," Bella Donna stated icily. "You are Thieves and excellent at discovering what has happened to stolen items, n'est ce pas?"

Remy tilted his head thoughtfully. He wasn't quite sure where this was going, but he knew that Bella Donna had some reason to believe that he would personally be involved in the theft. But what reason? It wasn't like they had left behind tracks.

Bella Donna did not wait for him to respond. She leaned back against the sofa, flexing her arms on the back, and gave him a small smile. "I expect you will have located the item and returned it within the week."

"You're so certain it was one of my Thieves?" Remy asked blandly, but his eyes danced dangerously at her.

She threw him one of the heated, irritated looks he had earned often enough during their long history. "It was a personal item stolen from my personal storeroom, and I expect a prank of this nature to be undone quickly or I will _personally_ rectify it."

Remy leaned forward. "Is that a threat?"

Bella Donna leaned forward in return, narrowing the space between them, eyes spitting fire. "Take it or leave it, _chér_."

Remy settled back into his seat. "I'll keep my eyes open for it."

"You do that." Bella Donna rose gracefully from her seat and gathered her cloak about her. "I prefer my killings in cold blood over the heat of the moment."

Remy coughed on that one. "I thought you weren't in the field." She had threatened him personally and bodily more than once, but for once, he had a feeling she was serious.

She gave him one of her other famous looks, the one that told him he should know her well enough to know the answer. She gave him a slow once-over. "I think you'd be a worthy challenge." She flashed him a charming grin, then swept out of the room.

Remy waited until he heard the front door close behind her before he leaned back his head and groaned.

Great. Just great.

* * *

After about an hour, Rogue felt she had a grasp on the situation and all the players involved, and she couldn't help but feel a rising excitement at the possibilities.

She pursed her lips and deliberately gave Etienne a rather thoughtful look. He was busy worrying away at his lower lip with his teeth.

"I've decided to spare you," Rogue said, "on the following conditions..."

Etienne looked up, a hopeful look gleaming in his eye. Rogue thought he looked far too young to be a Thief at the level he was talking about.

"You will clean the kitchen," she began, suppressing a chuckle when his face blanched, "wash the pans, scrub the floors, empty the trash, clean the counters, etc. That kitchen must be shining when I come back down. You can also help me vacuum and dust all the furniture. There will be no free-loading on my property and you are to work for your room and board."

"But I have my own f—"

"Silence!" She glared at him and felt a twinge of satisfaction when he instantly backed down. Perhaps Rogue was being a tiny, teensy bit cruel, but she was certainly going to exact punishment for the bathroom stunt—hormones or not! "When you are finished with those things, I will inspect and tell you what else to do. Now, get busy."

Etienne got up slowly and glanced back at her before moving toward the kitchen. No doubt, he was hoping for a rescue from his cousin, whoever he was.

Rogue meanwhile had to prepare. She wanted to be ready for whenever that cousin came to check up on Etienne. This was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.

- - -

French translations:

_Oui_. Yes.

_Bonjour, monsieur_. Hello, sir.

_Oui, monsieur_. Yes, sir.

_homme_ man

_Comprenez?_ Understand?

_Je comprends_. I understand.

_Désolé!_ Sorry!

_Moi_. Me

_n'est ce pas? _isn't that so?

_chér_ dear (masculine)


	8. Chapter 8

**Happy New Year!! This chapter is brought to you by Fostersb**. **Hope you enjoy, and remember that non of us in the ROMY Round Robin own any part of the X-men.**

Remy was nervous; he was anxious; he was officially panicking. Belle had come into the Guild demanding the return of her chalice, and Remy had no idea how he was going to accomplish this goal without revealing Etienne's failure.

Remy prided himself on being a calm person. Many times, he had been surprised or faced with unexpected circumstances during which he had to think on his feet and had done so with ease and confidence. He never let his opponents at the poker table know he was holding a bad hand. He never let a woman see he was disinterested in her conversation. He never let his enemies know that he might be scared. Whenever Remy was faced with a problem, he thought fast and reacted without losing a step. But now, Remy was without an answer, and this fact was driving with nervousness towards full-blown panic.

So much was riding on Remy's ability to retrieve the lost chalice because failure to do so could result in dire consequences for Etienne, himself and the Guild. If the chalice could not be found, Etienne would certainly have to be removed from the Guild. It would kill Et to lose the connection with his family and would essentially render him an Exile in New Orleans.

For Remy, this incident would bring shame to his name and reputation. With his status as Guild Master so newly acquired, he could not afford to have scandal tied to his name, as it would make him look weak and incapable. Remy had no fear that his Thieves would rebel against him. Men like Lapin, Theo and Henri had been close to him for too long; were too honorable to revolt. But, Remy still needed to be respected by the Guild's allies. Failure to do so, could result in a call for a new Guildmaster; potentially one with the name Belladonna.

Finally, and most dangerously, a mistake by the Guild could result in another war between the Thieves and the Assassins. Belle had given Remy time to find the chalice, but if he didn't, she could end the peace they had fought so hard for. If that happened, New Orleans would be running red with the blood of the Guilds. That mere thought made Remy shiver and further heightened his anxiety.

Remy realized that he had to go to the safehouse, check on Etienne and tell him to stay silent and out of sight. He bolted from his office and half-ran down the hall towards the front door. He grabbed his trench coat, threw it on, strode through the door and shut it with a slam.

In the kitchen, Theo and Lapin sat at the banquet enjoying their breakfasts, which would now be labeled brunch considering the fact that it was almost noon. Theo perused the paper as he sipped his coffee, while Lapin shoved beignets in his mouth, the sugar forming a thick ring around his mouth.

They saw Remy stride past, his coattails whipping against the doorframe. Theo raised his eyebrows while Lapin through him a questioning glance. They heard the door slam and quickly resumed their tasks. Seconds later, they heard the door slam, saw Remy rush by cursing a storm, and then saw him quickly return and run out the door.

Theo put down his coffee mug, Lapin swallowed his beignet, and then they both muttered, "Belle."

* * *

As Rogue descended the stairs, she had a little swagger in her hips. She felt good about herself and her situation for the first time in many months, and that optimism translated into her confident body language. Only an hour ago, she had been practically attacked by a stranger. Now, she had an adventure to look forward to that could feed her desire for action. Also, she had managed to get her house clean without lifting a finger. All in all, Rogue was feeling mighty high.

She strolled into the kitchen and found Etienne standing by the table, his hands clasped before him as if in supplication. His face was a mixture of fear and anticipation; Rogue found it amusing just how much this boy wanted her approval. Though Rogue was impressed by how clean the room was, she didn't say a word. Deciding to play with Etienne a little, Rogue swiped her finger across the table and inspected it. She squinted, rubbed her fingers together, and hummed.

"Yes, this is satisfactory," she concluded.

Etienne let out a huge sigh and tentatively walked towards her. His eyes scanned the room as if he was afraid Rogue would pull out a pan and hit him.

Rogue was not naturally an unsympathetic person, and so she dropped the haughty act. "Etienne, the room looks fabulous. There is no reason to fear me, I promise I will not hurt you."

Etienne gave an unsure smile and replied, "Yeah, well, in my house, if things aren't clean, Tante Mattie will whack you good, even Remy. I did manage to make some coffee as well if you want some."

"That would be nice," Rogue answered, taking a seat at the table.

Etienne grabbed two mugs, poured the brew and handed Rogue her cup as he sat across her. Rogue deeply inhaled the rich aroma, savoring the smell like the true coffee addict she was.

"Now tell me more about this cousin of yours," Rogue said. She wanted to make sure she had done enough reconnaissance on all the players. Logan had taught her to never go blindly into a situation and try to gather as many facts as possible.

"Well, Remy is not that old, only twenty-five. He is one of the youngest to ever become Guildmaster. He is the best Thief to ever be in the Guild. He holds the records for most steals in a year and most valuable heist. He is…" Etienne paused. He realized Remy would not appreciate him telling this woman too many details, so he decided to give only superficial facts.

Rogue sensed Etienne's hesitancy, but she let it slide. "He is?" she questioned.

"Well most women would say that he is quite handsome. I mean he is tall, muscular, tan, all the things that usually qualify as hot," Etienne replied.

Rogue snorted. "Where did you get that idea. Have you been reading _Cosmo_?"

Etienne blushed. "Well, no, but I mean he gets any girl he wants when we go out. Henri says they stick to him like flies on honey. It's true. I have never seen him leave a bar or club without the hottest girl on his arm."

"Hum." Rogue sarcastically asked, "Well, just when will lover boy show up?" Rogue was already getting the feeling she would not like Remy. She didn't take too well to boys who thought they were hot shit; too often they were arrogant, cruel and stupid.

"It could be a while," Etienne responded. "He didn't want to raise suspicions and so told me that he might only come once every few days. He won't call before he comes, in case the lines are being tapped, so it really is a waiting game."

Rogue slumped in her chair and pouted. She didn't want to wait; she wanted to start now. She had spent too many months watching others on missions, being left out and alienated. Now she was raring to go, and the fact that she had to wait had her wanting to kick something.

"Its okay," Etienne said, trying to calm Rogue as one would soothe a child's temper tantrum.

This strategy only left Rogue further frustrated. She knew that the way she was acting was childish, and in no way reflective of her twenty-one years, but she couldn't help it. She was tired of doing nothing and the disappointment had left her petulant.

The two sat in silence, sipping coffee and thinking about what to say to one another. As the minutes passed, Rogue's irritation grew. If Kitty had seen her, she would have said she was in her "moody phase."

Suddenly, Rogue heard a quiet rapping but ignored it and continued to sulk. A minute later she heard the sound again and looked at Etienne. He had also heard the noise but shrugged his shoulders and continued to drink his coffee. By the third time Rogue heard the sound, she had had enough.

"Damn squirrels, I swear I am going to skin them alive," she muttered as she rose from her chair and stomped towards the front door.

"Now, you damned vermin, you just wait until..." Rogue cursed as she opened the door.

* * *

Remy had been trying his best not to lose his cool. He had now knocked on the door three times and Etienne had failed to answer. He would give that boy ten more seconds before he picked the lock. After counting to five, Remy heard the shuffle of feet and smiled. Poor Etienne. Sneaking was never his forte, his footsteps could usually be heard. Remy opened his mouth to chide Et but fell silent as soon as the door opened.

Remy was rendered speechless for one of the few times in his life. Looking right at him was a beautiful girl, not his cousin Etienne.

He was struck by her eyes, which even through his sunglasses, he could see were green like emeralds. She had a beautiful heart-shaped face, with smooth, creamy white skin that had a sexy flush from her exertion. Her hair, which fell in long waves down her back, was a rich auburn hue with two unique white streaks framing her face.

Looking down, Remy had to admit that the view only got better. The girl was blessed with a beautiful chest and she was quite slim. Her legs were long and lithe and her jeans hugged her in all the right places.

Though Remy was surprised, he didn't show it. He simply smiled, and went to work. "Bonjour, chère1. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Rogue was equally shocked. The man before her was very handsome and oozed sex and danger. His brown hair fell into his eyes; his chiseled face had a light layer of scruff and his tall toned body that seemed to be poured into his shirt and jeans. Even his sunglasses, which seemed a little out of place, made him look mysterious and debonair.

Immediately after having these thoughts, Rogue's mind screamed at her to get a grip. She was not one of those girls who fawned over men. She was a loner, a girl who never gave an inch and would not be taken in by a man's charms. She knew this had to be Remy LeBeau, and she would be damned if she was going to give him the upper hand by indicating her interest.

She had to remain cool or she would only appear weak and silly. She had never been a simpering dolt and she was not about to start now. She exhaled and answered his greeting, "I ain't got time for your show, Remy LeBeau, so just get in the house and get on with it."

Remy raised his eyebrows in surprise. How did this girl know who he was, and better yet, where was Etienne? He stepped into the house, not letting his shock stop him from checking out the woman's hips as she walked. Damn, the girl was a masterpiece.

"Didn't know that Remy was a famous man. I hope you have only heard bon2 things," he joked.

Rogue turned around sharply, wanting to give him a snide remark, but she thought better of it. She needed to befriend him in order to be a part of their scheme. "I heard a thing or two. Etienne speaks highly of you." She knew she had taken the right tack when she saw Remy smile. Nothing like a compliment to boost a man's ego and make him drop his guard.

"Well, everything you heard is true." Remy grinned and moved towards her. "Now I hardly think it is fair for you to know about Remy and for me to not know your name."

"Rogue," she flatly replied, trying hard to not be affected by his slick maneuvers. The man was truly a Swamp Rat and Rogue was a little revolted.

"Rogue, hum, are you as wild as your name?" Remy smirked and all Rogue could do was roll her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever," she coolly responded. "Now are you going tell me more about the Guilds and the chalice?" she questioned, folding her arms across her chest.

"I see Et has already talked." Remy chuckled. "Just what did you do to him to get him to come clean?"

"I haven't done anything," she bit back. "The better question is why you thought you could use my house for your criminal activities?"

"Ah, so then you must be the infamous niece." Remy smirked.

"Etienne!" Remy yelled. He was going to give that boy a good licking. Remy couldn't believe that Et had shared the secret and to a stranger, no less. They had no idea what this girl could do and who she might tell. For all he knew, this Rogue was another one of Belle's Assassins sent to kill them both.

Etienne cautiously stepped into the room, making sure to stay near Rogue. She was his buffer against Remy, who currently looked like he wanted to fillet Etienne.

"Remy, she came in when I was sleeping, I found her and I had to tell her. She is the niece of Irene, she could have kicked me out, she made me tell her the truth, and she had a frying pan." The words poured out of Etienne's mouth like water.

"But you didn't need to tell her the truth," Remy snapped back. "We don't need her involved in the issue."

"I know, Remy, but she seems to be really nice and wanting to help us out," Etienne quietly admitted.

"And you trust her?" Remy responded incredulously. "What if she is an Assassin? What if she works for the government...?"

"I'll remind you both that 'she' is standing right here, and 'she' is the owner of the house," Rogue snapped, putting her hands on her hips.

Remy and Etienne turned to Rogue and stood there in silence. For his part, Remy was having a hard time concentrating on fighting when this gorgeous girl was being too hot with her rich voice, strident comments and sexy poses.

"I don't mean any disrespect,_ chère_, but this is private family business and I can't have you involved," Remy replied.

"Well, if you want use of the house then you will have to deal with the girl," Rogue arrogantly stated. She was not going to be bullied in her own house by a bunch of criminals.

Watching the scene, Etienne was impressed. Not surprisingly, Remy had wasted no time in trying to charm Rogue, though this time, his usual charm was failing to have an effect. Etienne secretly cheered Rogue on; it was high time that Remy experienced the romantic failings that every other man went through on a daily basis.

Though Etienne was loath to interrupt his mentor and leader, he was very curious as to why Remy was here. It seemed early in the day for Remy to make his appearance, considering that he usually didn't take to the streets until well after dark.

Etienne politely coughed. "Remy, I see you are already up to your usual tricks."

"Now Et, don't say dat. You scare the poor fille3, make it seem like I'm dangereux.4" Remy smirked.

"Hardly," Rogue mumbled under her breath, causing Remy to widen his smirk.

"See now, we are already starting on de right path. I could just tell, mademoiselle5, that you were both belle6 and smart," Remy noted, his voice smooth and rich.

"Now I could stand here all day and hear ya croon, " Rogue sarcastically snipped, "but why are you really here?"

Remy's smile faltered as he looked at Rogue, then at Etienne. "Well, it is simple. The chalice be missing, and Belle knows."

* * *

Belle was comfortably reclined on her couch, sipping a martini with one hand, while the other one was meticulously filed by her personal manicurist. Belle found that there were only two ways she could effectively deal with her anger. One was running a knife through someone's torso; the other was getting a manicure. Today she had opted for the latter, as she had no desire to break a sweat.

In giving Remy seven days to find the chalice, Belle had simply given him the respect and opportunity that one rival would give another. Problem was, Remy was not her rival, but her enemy. Furthermore, she hardly trusted the man after years of being subjected to his lies, cheating and broken promises. There was no way in hell that Belle could assume that Remy would just find the chalice and return it. There was only one way to ensure the chalice would be regained; she had to track Remy.

Following Remy would not be easy, but Belle figured it was worth the risk. She just had to make sure that she used the right man. Belle put down her martini, picked up her cell and dialed.

"Hello," a suave voice answered.

"Bonjour, mon amour,7" Belle cooed.

"Hey, sexy, couldn't get enough of me?" The voice chuckled.

"You know it, but seriously, Donyell, I need you to do me a favor," Belle replied. Belle had met Donyell a few years ago at a local boxing ring and been impressed with his fighting skills. Over time, the attraction between the two had grown and they had secretly been lovers for over a year.

At first, Belle had thought it was just a fling. Donyell was a great looking man, all muscle, with smooth cocoa skin, full lips and great package. Belle had nicknamed him her "Chocolate Adonis." But soon Belle saw that he also had a great mind. He was cunning, street-smart and loyal she had come to realize that she loved him. Though she was sure that Donyell returned her love, they had not announced it, as Belle had wanted to cement her hold on the Guild before bringing in a new member. Still, Donyell was the only man she could trust enough to do this job and do it right.

"I need you to track Remy LeBeau. I don't trust that he will return the chalice," Belle stated.

"I could have told you that, honey, but I will get on it. I'll call you when I get a lead. Bye, boo," Donyell replied and hung up.

Satisfied that some precautions had been taken, Belle set the phone on the side table and closed her eyes. She focused on the massage her manicurist was giving her and tried to relax. She couldn't do anything else but wait.

1 Good day, dear.

2 Good.

3 Girl.

4 Dangerous.

5 Miss.

6 Beautiful.

7 Hello, my love.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Hello to all the faithful readers. Excuse the group for the delay, but with the holidays and New Year we fell behind. We have been working on the storyline and are up and running again. This chapter is brought to you by Chellerbelle. Italics represent flashback. Please note: none of us own the X-men, X-men the movie or any characters in this story.  
**

Etienne looked at Remy in shock.

"Belle _knows_?" he repeated after a hard swallow. "How... when... I'm dead, aren't I? I am so dead."

"Et, Et, relax," Remy said as he put his hands on his cousin's upper arms. "She doesn't know it was you. She discovered it missing, but the impression I got was that she thinks it was stolen a while ago."

"You sure?" Etienne questioned skeptically.

"Would I lie to you?"

"Oui."

"Would I lie to you about something important?"

"Well, I guess not," Etienne conceded. "Do you consider my life important?"

"It's nice to see you haven't lost your sense of humour," Remy said dryly. "Look, it just means that we have a deadline to meet to find the chalice. We were already making it a priority anyway."

"Which begs the question," Rogue drawled, "have you even bothered to start looking for it yet?"

Remy and Etienne turned their heads to look at her, Remy dropping his hands.

"I don't suppose you would have any coffee, would you, chère?" Remy asked.

"Actually, Etienne just made up some," Rogue replied sweetly. "Etienne, won't you be a dear and get your cousin some coffee?"

"Uh," Etienne said, looking between them. "Sure."

"Why don't we take this to the dining room?" Rogue went on, her eyes still on Remy. "I'm sure that'll be more comfortable than standing in the hallway."

"It's your house, chérie," Remy replied, spreading his hands.

"And don't you forget it," Rogue said haughtily, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she turned and sauntered into the dining room.

Remy waited just long enough before following to appreciate the sway of her hips as she walked. He was convinced she was doing it on purpose just to tease him. Rogue took her seat and put her hands around her coffee mug, glad it hadn't lost too much heat in the intervening time. She took a sip and watched as Remy sat down on a chair opposite Etienne's seat, marked by his own mug.

"You didn't answer my question," Rogue commented.

"As I said before, this isn't your business," Remy said firmly. "We're dealing with some dangerous people here. I wouldn't want to see you caught in the crossfire."

"In other words," Rogue said as Etienne appeared with a mug of coffee for Remy, "you haven't."

"Merci, Et," Remy said.

"You're welcome," Etienne replied, sitting back down at his own chair.

"I'm quite serious, chère," Remy continued after a sip of his coffee. "Should the worst happen, the Assassins will shoot first and ask questions second."

"Then it seems to me that you need all the help you can get," Rogue replied. "Don't make me kick Etienne out. He's such a nice boy."

The fact that he was probably older than her was completely beside the point. Etienne hid his face in his coffee mug, refusing to meet Remy's eyes.

"Good to know he's been on his best behaviour," Remy said slyly.

"So uh," Etienne said quickly, "I was thinking that maybe the bar might be the best place for you to start. I mean, I suppose I could have lost it on the way to the bar, but I've never dropped anything on the bike before and I _know_ it was definitely in my pocket before we got on."

"I agree. Mercy's checking out pawnshops and the like in case anyone found it and decided to make a quick buck," Remy said. "You know how she likes shopping, so she's happy."

"I bet Henri's not," Etienne replied, a grin appearing on his face.

"You may find yourself in possession of a big bill when this is over," Remy said with a sage nod.

"Mon dieu!" Etienne said, staring at him in horror. "Remy, we have to find the chalice quick!"

"Don't have to tell me twice," Remy drawled, smirking at him. "So, when you checked the bar earlier?"

"I looked everywhere," Etienne insisted. "And I tried talking to the guys too, but none of the staff were any help. The patrons might have been regulars during the day, but none of them were regulars during the night, so that was a dead end too."

"Well, the staff there are never any help," Remy said with a pointed look at Rogue. "They're smart enough to keep their hands clean of Guild business."

"Have you tried replaying your visit to the bar?" Rogue asked Etienne, ignoring Remy's comment. "You know, mentally retracing your steps?"

"You kidding? I've been replaying the whole night, over and over again," Etienne replied wearily. "I even physically retraced them in the bar when I checked it out. I looked under the tables and chairs, around the bar and the pool tables and in the men's, and nothing. Not a damned thing."

"Did you try the women's?" Rogue inquired slyly.

"Uh, no," Etienne replied, feeling his face flush. "I didn't go in there."

"Really? That's a surprise," she mused.

Remy raised an eyebrow at his cousin and then glanced at Rogue. Clearly he was missing something.

"What about cleaning staff?" Rogue went on then. "You know, whoever tidies up after hours? Or do they keep out of it too?"

"They probably keep out of it too," Remy said. "Say, Et, did you think to check the garbage?"

"N-no," Etienne replied.

"Hmm, that may be worth checking out, in the off chance whoever picked it up didn't check the bag," Remy considered. "Let's see, it was pretty late—more like early morning—when we arrived and the first thing we did was order drinks..."

"_To a successful Tilling," Remy said, holding up his glass._

"_Cheers," Etienne replied happily._

_They saluted each other with their glasses and then downed their drinks before ordering another round. While they waited, Remy looked around the bar. It was as upper class as you could get around this part of New Orleans, and a favourite of members from both Guilds as well as the general public. With the current peace between the Guilds, the owner didn't have to worry about Guild-related bar fights._

_This time of night, however, there were very few people in there. The only other Thief Remy spied was sitting in the corner, staring into his drink. There were a lot more Assassins, all engrossed in some lively discussion. Remy recognised Bandit hustling at the pool tables and smirked to himself before his attention was captured by a tall, curvy blonde bending over at the next pool table across to take her shot. He was just admiring the way her mini skirt was crawling up her thighs when Etienne noticed and groaned._

"_Hey," he objected while waving his hand in front of Remy's face. "Remember me? Etienne? The reason why we're even here?"_

_Remy turned his head slightly and grinned at Etienne, although his eyes remained on the fine female behind._

"_Oui, I remember," Remy said. "But you have to admit, that's a very nice view."_

"_I'll drink to that," Etienne replied as the bartender slid their drinks across. "But you don't get to ditch me for a dame tonight, Remy."_

"_Aww, where's the fun in that?" Remy joked. "Don't worry, Et. I wasn't planning any such thing."_

"_You never do."_

_Still, the two continued admiring the scenery until the game ended. Her partner kissed her sloppily, and then the two wandered out of the bar with their arms wrapped around each other._

"_Care for a game?" Etienne asked, already getting up off the stool._

"_Sure," Remy agreed._

_They set up the balls and Etienne broke first. There weren't too many things he could do better than Remy. Remy was the premiere Thief, had been known to get women just by pointing a finger and always cleaned up at the poker tables. But when it came to billiards, Etienne was the king._

_After beating Remy at the four games that followed, nature called and Etienne headed to the men's to heed its words. Upon his return, Remy had more drinks waiting for them._

"_Another game?" Remy asked._

"_You're not tired of losing yet?" Etienne teased him._

"_Sooner or later, the booze is going to get to you, and then we'll see how easy it is for you to aim."_

_Etienne laughed._

"Had a few more games, finally left after I beat Etienne," Remy finished and grinned at Etienne. "I went straight home. I'm guessing you did too, Et?"

"Oui," Etienne confirmed and then sighed. "Of all the nights I had to lose stuff it had to be the night of my Tilling."

"And the chalice," Remy added. "Wouldn't have been so bad if you just lost your keys or something."

"Exactly."

"Still would have been able to get home and get in your apartment," Remy went on. "Not like you need keys for that."

Etienne chuckled while Rogue raised her eyebrows over her now depleted coffee mug.

"Uh huh," she said. "I take it you're going back to the bar tonight?"

"What I do is not your concern, chère," Remy replied seriously. "You already know more than you should."

"You know, now that you mention it," Rogue drawled. "I have this thing about peeping toms and voyeurs. Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Etienne."

Remy only got as far as mouthing the word "voyeur" before Etienne started blushing furiously and babbled: "It was... I didn't mean... an accident, I swear! Please don't kick me out. There's Assassins involved here. Assassins!"

"Hmm, yes, that does sound pretty dangerous, doesn't it? But your cousin here is just all so concerned about my wellbeing. In fact, he's got me so nervous, I couldn't possibly risk keeping you here in _my house_ where those big nasty Assassins could drop in at any time," Rogue said cynically.

"He has to stay here," Remy said. "We can't afford for him to be seen."

Rogue merely looked at him. She would have liked to have captured his eyes, but unfortunately, they were still hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Why he was wearing them indoors, she had no idea.

"There isn't another safe house," Remy added.

"Not my problem," Rogue dismissed and stood up. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd suggest you both leave."

Remy sighed loudly while Etienne looked anxiously between them.

"What do you want exactly?" Remy asked finally.

"I want to help," Rogue replied, looking down on him. "Is that really so much to ask?"

"You know nothing about the Guilds, and certainly nothing about the chalice," Remy dismissed. "You can help best by keeping Etienne hidden. With you here, you can make supply runs, and I don't have to risk being seen coming here too often. Actually looking for the chalice on the other hand? You'll just be a liability. As far as I see it, chère, your house is the only asset you've got."

Well, perhaps not the _only_ 'asset', Remy decided as his eyes racked slowly up and down her body, but certainly the only one relevant to the discussion.

"Oh really?" Rogue drawled, her body slanting to the side as one hand rest on her hip. "And how, pray tell, were you planning on getting answers out of bar staff—and possibly patrons as well—who don't want to get involved with Guild business?"

"I have my ways."

"Uh huh. Seems to me, you could use all the help you can get in this search, and I'd say the fact that I'm not a member of either Guild _is_ an asset."

Etienne coughed nervously.

"Uh, she does raise a good point, Remy," he offered tentatively.

"I tell you what," Rogue said. "I'm going to go to the kitchen and put these mugs in the sink. When I come back out here, you two had better be gone unless you're going to meet my terms. I'll even be nice and give you a few minutes to talk it over."

In one swift motion, Rogue picked up the three empty mugs and sauntered into the kitchen while Remy and Etienne both admired the view. Slowly Etienne turned his head back to look at Remy.

"Please don't make me leave," he said. "I don't know if you've noticed, but she's _hot_; especially when she's not holding a frying pan."

"I'll take that under advisement," Remy said dryly, then added: "Voyeur?"

"Not that, you know, she'll be here all the time," Etienne said quickly, feeling the blush run to his face again. "I mean, she'll be out searching too. And really, I think it's very nice of her to want to help us."

"I'd like to know why she wants to help us," Remy replied, seeing Etienne's discomfort and making a mental note to pursue the matter later. "What's in it for her?"

"Well, if we stick around, we might find out."

"This is not a holiday for you, Etienne," Remy told him firmly. "You lost the chalice."

"You don't need to remind me."

"Just making sure."

"You know, she's probably going to come back soon."

"Oui, and I don't have anywhere else to stash you."

"So, I guess she's helping?"

Remy sighed, and his response was delayed by Rogue's return.

"Well now, what do I have here? Two little swamp rats still in my house," she mused. "I'm assuming this means you've decided to take me up on my generous offer? Or were you about to leave?"

Remy pushed out from the table and slowly walked over to her. Rogue kept her eyes firmly on his sunglasses and refused to look away even when he stopped barely inches from her.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he said.

Rogue shivered at the dangerous tone in his voice, and annoyed with herself for reacting like that, she reached up and snatched his glasses off. She caught her breath at the sight of his red irises burning in black sclera. Remy didn't even so much as flinch.

"You're a mutant," she stated.

"What was your first clue?" Remy asked dryly.

"Hmph." Rogue snorted and pressed his now-folded glasses into his chest. "Unless you're in danger of shooting optic beams from those eyes of yours, you don't need to wear these things in here. Etienne?"

"Oui?" Etienne inquired.

"Since I'm going to be out and about searching for this chalice of yours, you're in charge of keeping the house clean."

"Of course I am," he muttered.


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter is brought to you by Fostersb. Give a massive amount of applause to aiRo25 for her editing work. Please note that neither she, nor any of the other members of the Round Robin Team own the X-men, X-men the movie or any part of the Marvel universe. **

**ROMY Round Robin Chapter 10**

Rogue did not consider herself a giddy woman. She left the pep and perkiness to girls like Kitty, who seemed to be brimming with energy. However, as she walked down the streets of New Orleans, Rogue had to admit she was rather excited.

After arguing with Remy for over an hour, she had managed to convince him to let her do the surveillance at the bar. For the first time in months, Rogue was able to do something that resembled a mission. She felt like an athlete returning to play after a long hiatus. Energy coursed through her body, the anticipation making her feel alive and aware. She carried herself with confidence, smirking as she observed multiple men checking out her leather-clad hips.

As she neared the bar, Rogue went over her game plan. Logan had told her numerous times that, in order to gain information, she had to blend in and remain calm. Rogue couldn't just walk into the club and start asking about the chalice. She had to gain the patrons trust, talk about the mundane, and then hopefully coax the information out of lips loosened by drink.

Finally, Rogue reached the bar, which was halfway down a side street within the French Quarter. It was built into one of the beautiful Victorian houses and a plain wooden sign at the top of the door held the name _Le Quartier. _Rogue knew from her limited French that this translated to The Quarter.

Upon walking inside, Rogue immediately understood why someone like Remy would choose a place like this to frequent. It was inconspicuous, small and held a familial air. It had none of the garish flash that other clubs in the area had. There was only one large room with a dozen or so mahogany chairs and tables. The lighting was dim and warm, reminding Rogue of a 19th century smoking room. On the right were three pool tables while on the left there was the bar. The air was filed with a slightly sweet smell, remnants of past cigars.

There were only a few men in the place, not surprisingly since it was early afternoon. There were two older men sitting at one of the tables in muted conversation and a middle-aged man sat all the way at the end of the bar, nursing a beer. Rogue doubted that they would know anything about the chalice and so chose to focus her attention on the bartender.

She strode up to the bar and signaled to the barkeep. He looked to be about fifty years old, had brown hair that was graying at the temples and a slight belly that suggested he often imbibed with his customers. He slowly walked over, eyeing her for a minute, his eyes holding a look of slight surprise. Rogue assumed he probably didn't see many women in his establishment and definitely not at 2PM.

"What can I get ya, miss?" he asked in a monotone voice.

"Beer, whatever you have on tap," Rogue responded, trying to be nonchalant as if she drank everyday.

He nodded in response and then turned to retrieve her drink. Rogue turned around and, leaning on the bar, sought to get a fuller picture of the room. Though the room was sparse, Rogue hoped she would be able to see any nook or cranny where Etienne might have left his chalice. Considering how dark the furniture and floors were, a golden item would stick out. Rogue sighed. There was no way that someone wouldn't have noticed the object.

She felt a little deflated. When the bartender returned with her beer, Rogue took a large sip and pursed her lips in frustration as she put down the glass with a little more force than was necessary. The bartender looked up from wiping his countertop but let her be. To him, an irritated drinker was a daily occurrence.

Rogue turned back towards the room and continued to think of places that she might be able to search for the chalice. She would definitely have to look in the bathroom, both of them, as Etienne might have been too inebriated to know which one to use. She hoped that he hadn't dropped it in the trash. If so, it would be buried under a mountain of garbage in some landfill. If that were the case, Etienne would be the one to do the digging.

Rogue was too detracted and therefore didn't realize someone was next to her until she felt, and smelled, the warm alcoholic breath on her neck.

"What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a bar all alone?" the masculine voice asked with a slight slur in his southern accent.

Rogue turned to see a man in his early thirties. He was of average height and decent looking with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes. His scruffy chin suggested he had spent too many days in a bar. He wore blue jeans, a collared shirt and a leather jacket. To Rogue, he seemed like a harmless guy looking to score.

"Nothing. I'm just new in town and thought I would get the lay of the land." Rogue smiled, hoping that a little innocent flirting would push the man to open up and give her some information.

"Well, if you are looking to see the sites, I would be more than happy to escort you around." As the man leaned into Rogue, he reached his arm around her back to place his hand on her ass.

Rogue's hand shot out and grabbed his, twisting it enough to deter him from trying the move again.

"Thanks but I can do just fine on my own." Rogue couldn't believe that she, the once untouchable girl, was standing in a bar having to fend off a man trying to feel her up. Though she had been able to touch people for a while, she was still surprised when contact was initiated and sometimes struggled to not become defensive, as she had been for so many years when she was cursed.

Rogue heard a slight chuckle and noticed the bartender walked towards them.

"Now, Jasper, you know better then to try that move with the ladies. It hasn't worked in the past ten years and I don't imagine it would work this time."

Jasper muttered a curse and looked at the floor, obviously embarrassed by the chiding.

"I am sorry about that miss. Jasper is just extra friendly after he gets a couple in him. He really is harmless."

"Doc, I take offense to that," Jasper replied. "I will have you know that I have a very successful record with the ladies."

" You leave this one alone. She is far too young and too pretty to be paying for your drinks." Doc laughed and then turned his attention to Rogue. "Miss, if you have any questions about the Big Easy, you should ask me. I have been living here over forty years and know all the ins and outs."

Rogue smiled and knew that she was going to have to rely on the bartender in order to get any information. "Thanks, I was told by some people that your bar was a good place to grab myself a drink and relax."

"Yes miss, I don't like to brag, but it is all true," Doc stated with a coy smile on his face. "I am a friend to anyone at anytime."

"It seems like everyone I have met in this town is nice. So different from where I am from. It's good to return to the South where people are open and warm."

"Don't let anyone tell you anything different," Jasper added.

"Yeah," Rogue continued. "Back up North I worked in a large fancy department store selling jewelry. It was good income, but it was so tiresome dealing with rude, arrogant people everyday. Plus, I want to open my own jewelry store and I just knew I wouldn't be able to do that in the big city. So I moved here. I am hoping to set up a small boutique someday. But in the meantime, I am just looking for work."

Rogue hoped that discussing this line of work might provide a chance for her to bring up the chalice.

"I wish you success," Doc said.

"So far, I have had some luck. Been in a couple of shops where I might work as a salesgirl. When I was in one of them I met some guys who said with my knowledge, I could make a lot of money appraising jewels. It might be enough for me to get my shop started. Apparently, the company they have, TG Incorporated, sells a lot of merchandise."

Rogue could see Doc and Jasper stiffen.

"Miss," Doc started hesitantly. "I would advice you not to work for TG."

"Oh really? They seemed decent enough," Rogue replied.

"No." Doc shook his head. He glanced around the bar, then leaned in towards Rogue and lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "You didn't hear this from me, but TG, they are the Thieves Guild. They make their money by robbing. Any jewels they would bring you are hot. You would be just looking to get yourself into a world of trouble. Its best if you stay far away from them."

"What, are these men evil?" Rogue asked with a laugh. "It sounds as if people are afraid they might be killed if they talk too much. You would think they were the mob."

"That is something you shouldn't joke about," Doc stated in a quiet, serious tone. "The Guilds are not a bunch of ragtag delinquents. They are real criminals, who steal, maim and kill. They don't care who they hurt as long as they get what they want. They wear fancy clothes, spend lots of money and flirt with a lot of women. But underneath that façade, they are monsters who will hurt anyone, guilty or innocent."

"Yeah," Jasper continued. "They have been tearing up the town for over a century. Plus they been at war with the Assassins for decades."

"War?" Rogue asked.

"Yep, between the Thieves Guild and the Assassins Guild," Jasper answered. "One makes money by thieving, the other by killing. The leaders of the Guilds, families, the Bordreauxs and the LeBeaus, can't stand each other. Each wants to run the city, each thinks that he is better than the other and each will do anything to prove it. There is peace now, a truce of sorts, but those never last and this one won't either."

So Remy was not only a member of the Guild, he was also their leader. No wonder he was so invested in getting back the chalice.

Jasper continued. "When the wars were really bad, every week there was another bloody event. They would fight in the streets, in the bars, even once in church. People were afraid to go out at night lest they get caught in the crossfire."

"The members of the Guilds don't trust anyone outside their own. If they are friendly to someone it is only because they are a means to further their crimes. They don't befriend people, they use them," Doc asserted.

A funny feeling started to grow within Rogue. She felt a crawling within her stomach, a sign of unease. Perhaps she shouldn't be involving herself with Remy, Etienne and the Guilds. Though the two men seemed nice enough, she had not left the X-men to become a criminal.

Though she couldn't judge Remy and Etienne for what they had done and what they did, she didn't have to be party to it. Maybe she could just give the information to Remy and then ask them to leave her house. The Guild was wealthy. There had to be other safe houses they could use. Rogue would tell Remy that she would not go to the police, Etienne would leave, and Rogue would return to her initial goal of living in quiet solitude in her house. She could find other ways of feeding her craving for action. Perhaps she would start to race motorcycles or get a puppy.

Rogue was brought out of her thoughts when Doc tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey, miss, you should really stay away from them Guilds. Those people have been running the streets for too long and are too wily to be messed with. Anyone who gets involved in the blood feud usually ends up hurt or dead."

"But you let them into your bar," Rogue replied.

"I ain't stupid. They do bring in good business and things have been fair since they called truce. But there is a big difference between letting them drink in your bar and doing them favors."

"Yeah," Jasper agreed. "There aren't many men strong enough to associate with the Guilds. A man has got to either be real stupid or real desperate to do so. Only man I seen talking to the Assassins in here that ain't one of the family is Bandit, and he is just too cocky to know better."

"Bandit?" Rogue asked intrigued by his name.

"Yep," Jasper answered. "Large black man that comes into the bar to play pool. He is quite a player, hustles most people out of their money right quick. He's got a ton of muscle and he ain't afraid to use it. Once I saw him throw a chair out the door."

"So?" Rogue replied.

"There was a 300 lb. man sitting in it at the time. Guess he figures the Guilds can't hurt him and their money is worth the risk."

The bartender nodded in agreement. "I heard he was a mercenary, willing to do any job as long as the pay is right." Turning to Rogue, he smiled. "You seem like a nice girl. Don't ruin yourself by trusting those folks. New Orleans is a beautiful place full of excitement and friendly faces. But it can turn dark quick if you're not careful."

Rogue nodded, reaching into her wallet and pulling out money to pay for her beer. She figured there was no use prolonging her time here, as it seemed that this was now all the information that she was going to get.

"I thank you for your advice. I think from now on I will stick to the beignets and stay out of the bars."

"Right, just remember to zip your purse and never put your money in your pockets," Doc replied.

"Thanks again," Rogue called out as she left the bar.

Rogue squeezed her eyes as she walked out into the harsh sunlight. She couldn't say that her work had been very successful in retrieving information. The bartender and the customers were unwilling to discuss Guild business, and Rogue got the feeling they were genuinely ignorant of the chalice.

However, Rogue was interested by the man they called Bandit. He was friendly with the Assassins, a frequent customer of the bar, and someone who was willing to do dirty jobs as long as he was paid. It was a possibility that he might know something about the chalice and what might have happened to it. At the very least, it would be worth contacting him to see what knowledge he might have and how he fit into the story.

Rogue shook her head. No, she was not going to get further involved; this was a mess that she wanted no part of. She could not in good conscience help criminals. That was not who she was and would be a shame to all the principles that Xavier had taught her. Her heart hurt as she thought of her former mentor and imagined him being disappointed in her actions. Sure, she was not an X-man anymore, not a superhero, but she was still going to try and be a good person.

She thought of Etienne. The young man was kind, timid and far too gentle to be a criminal. Perhaps she could convince Etienne to forget the Guild and live an honest life. She had grown fond of the young man and knew he could do better. She would never want him to be like her, burdened by the guilt of having hurt others.

Rogue understood it would be no small task; she was asking him to give up his family, his friends and the only life he had known. But it was still worth the try. If it wasn't successful, at least Rogue could take solace in the fact that she had made the effort.

As Rogue neared the end of the street, she felt confident in the decision that she was making. She turned the corner and gasped as an arm wound around her torso and pulled her into the darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

**This chapter was written by aiRo25. Neither she, nor any of the other writers in the group own the X-men or X-men the movie series. Please check aiRo25's profile for more of her awesome works.**

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Rogue swung into action without a second thought. Her leg came up in a vicious kick as she spun away from the stranger's grasp. While the maneuver generally gave her breathing room in an attack, she was startled at the easy evasion of the dark figure. He lashed out with an answering kick that swept into one of her legs, knocked her off balance, then he spun her into the brick wall and pinned her there under his arms. She stared, gasping for breath.

"What the—"

"Now, chérie." She found herself staring into Remy's cocky smirk. "Is that any way to treat your benefactor?"

He held her down easily, only grinning more broadly. Rogue stopped struggling and huffed at him. An errant lock of white hair fell into her eyes and she wanted to brush it away, but no, she couldn't because this arrogant, irritating, self-centered Cajun was holding her down as if they weren't on the same team and looking at her with indecent appreciation. Of course, they wouldn't be on the same team for long, but he didn't know that. Yet.

"I'm pretty sure _I'm_ the benefactor, swamp rat," she reminded him with exaggerated patience. "We're using _my_ place."

Remy tilted his head, as if considering, then slid his hands down her arms, loosening his grip. The friction sent unwelcome shivers of heat into her body, and unsure of how to react, she glared at him again.

"Well, it was your idea to get involved," he said reasonably.

"I can just as easily get _un_involved!"

He clucked disapprovingly. "You can't. I need you." Somehow, he managed to infuse those words with far too much suggestion.

She opted for a barbed retort. "I highly doubt that."

"You wound me, chère!" He clutched his heart with one hand in mock pain.

Rogue snorted. "And this fits in with your whole arrogant, what-I-do-is-not-your-concern attitude?"

A smirk edged up his face again. "You _made_ it your concern, and I can't imagine a reason worth letting such a belle femme as yourself slip away from moi now." One finger caressed the side of her face. Too warm. Too close.

Rogue slapped his hands away, glaring again. "You're nothing but a thieving, conniving, manipulative, underhanded Cajun!" she fumed. "You—"

Both eyebrows came up. "As I recall, chère, _you_ were the one manipulating and suggesting your way into things."

"I did _not_," she declared hotly.

Remy gave her a skeptical once-over. "Oui, chère. You did."

"That's beside the point now." Trust him to get her off topic and flustered and distracted. Rogue pulled herself back onto topic, throwing out her big ultimatum. "I didn't learn a single useful thing in there except for what a big mistake it was to get involved with you and—"

He just rolled his eyes. "Already told you _that_."

She continued as if he hadn't spoken—interrupted her really. She shot him a glare. "—so you can just take your things and be gone from my place at your earliest convenience." Then she crossed her arms at him and lifted her chin.

"A change of heart?" he asked lightly, though his burning red eyes glowed with clear amusement.

Rogue eyed him warily, but threw him back his own retort. "What was your first clue?" she asked dryly, archly even.

Remy chuckled. "Désolè, ma chérie, but no."

He startled her with that. "Whuh—_what_?" She stared at him, reduced to inelegant sputtering.

"Non," he repeated as matter-of-factly as he had said it the first time.

The role reversal had her reeling. "Isn't that exactly what you wanted?" she demanded.

"Oh, you'd like to think you know what I want." He leaned in close, his breath painting her face with the innuendo.

"I would _not_." And she shoved him back again.

Nothing daunted, Remy flashed her that cocky smirk that implied far too much and looked her over again. "Aw, chère. We know the truth." And how he made that _sound!_

"Shut up!" Rogue crossed her arms and glared at him.

He grinned.

"I can walk away any time I want." She poked her finger against his chest for emphasis.

He covered the offending hand with his, and Rogue instantly tried to yank it back, but he held on. It galled her that the warmth was not unpleasant.

"Chère," he said, eyes suddenly very serious. "You're in too deep."

"Hardly! I've walked into one bar," she ranted. She had not compromised him or Etienne nor been compromised by a single thing she had said or done. She had barely done _anything._ "It's not like anybody knows anything they shouldn't."

"Like what you look like in the ladies room?" He let the words slip out so innocently, so unobtrusively that she was already opening her mouth to continue on her own point before she caught his.

She turned a deep shade of red. "You, _you_, swamp rat!" _How_ did he figure that out? Oh, Etienne was going to be in more trouble than he'd ever been in his entire life from anyone he'd ever been in trouble with before.

Remy chuckled. "Thought I heard that correctly."

The look she leveled at him went beyond any he had received previously. "How _dare_ you bring that up?" she spat.

"Because you're the cutest thing when you're ticked." He was smirking!

Unable to slap him with her captured hand, she settled for leveling him her deadliest glare. "I haven't done _anything_ inappropriate."

He shook his head, that irritating smirk still gracing his lips. "You have."

"I have?" Rogue arched an eyebrow in pure disbelief.

But he started ticking things off with his words with an ease that spoke of much forethought. "You got involved. You aided and abetted. It's _your_ place. There ain't no way that the right word leaked to the wrong people won't get you looked at sideways, perhaps worse."

He had to be talking about police. And framing. And...

Her eyes widened.

"You wouldn't." He would. She could see it in his eyes. "Oh! They were _so_ right about you. Using anyone for anything to get what you want. I can't _believe_ you!"

"Chère." He sighed. "It ain't like that."

"Don't you 'chère' me! Just get your hands off!" With a mighty heave, Rogue finally wrenched herself out of Remy's grip and shoved him back. "This is my home now and I have a right to live in peace!"

She wasn't just talking about the house. This was the only city she could just transplant herself to, start over, start a new life away from the X-Men and the Cure and everything that had happened to her since she ended up in New York. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked anywhere but Remy.

"You're the one that wanted to get involved," he said softly. At least, he wasn't leering anymore. At least...

There was no at least. He was blackmailing her. Pure and simple.

"Oh, shut up!" She was near tears, but she had no intention of letting Remy see it or of letting herself break down like she had over the last few years. She had indulged her own weaknesses and look what it got her: a boyfriend who left her as much for her nagging bitterness as her dangerous powers and a situation in which she was clearly in over her head.

Rogue stared at Remy for a long moment, his calm, serious patience. She would not give him or anyone else the satisfaction of seeing her bested by life—_again_. She would just have to pull herself together and find some way to twist this new situation to her advantage like she had before. Patience, Logan had taught her. Sometimes you just had to wait for the right opportunity to roll back around.

"Fine." She bit out the word.

Remy raised a disbelieving brow. "Fine?"

"You heard me. I said, 'Fine.'"

His look turned suspicious, but Rogue was already halfway out of the alleyway and onto the street. She could hear his loud sigh behind her, then he was beside her fast enough to startle, one warm arm sliding around her waist.

She would bide her time all right, and when the moment was right, she was going to find some way to help Etienne out of this mess and exact her revenge on Remy LeBeau, Guildmaster of Thieves.

* * *

Bandit looked over the edge of the roof again to be certain he had positively identified both parties. He had been expecting Remy to show up at the bar next door and waited, knowing that following the young Guildmaster would be nearly impossible without tipping his hand. So he had waited and his patience had borne fruit.

He pondered what he had heard. It seemed like Belladonna's old beau had got himself a new girl and was being a bit...clingy. He wanted this girl. The girl was beautiful, distinctive. He could pick those white lovelocks out of any crowd. And she was angry at LeBeau. If he didn't mistake that clipped tone, those sparking green eyes, that heavy drawl that thickened with every line the Thief dropped, she was as mad as a cornered cat.

Belladonna would probably want to know right away. His girlfriend had always been jealous and still managed to pull the wounded wildcat every time her ex got himself a new woman for any amount of time. For that reason alone, Bandit thought he should hold on to this news for himself. Belladonna may see it as more reason to kill the Thief, but Bandit saw it as ammunition.

There had to be some way he could turn this new tool to his advantage.

She was a spitfire. Angry at the Guildmaster.

He grinned broadly.

Perhaps he had found his way in at last.

* * *

Jean-Luc LeBeau was getting bored. Very bored. He was only too glad to be rid of the mountains of paperwork being Guildmaster entailed: the careful cover-ups, the police reports to analyze, the investments and legitimate holdings besides all the day to day administration that piled up week after week on his old desk. Yes, he was only too glad to be free of it and allow his once unruly sons—still fairly unruly, come to think of it—deal with the gruntwork while he got to play again.

But it had been quiet in the LeBeau mansion since Etienne left for his Tilling. Too quiet. Jean-Luc hadn't even had the pleasure of listening to Remy gripe about the woeful flood upon his desk. He hadn't heard Henri berating Remy for not having listened well enough as an apprentice to not know this or not know that. In fact, he hadn't heard Remy!

Upon this realization, the venerable Patriarch betook himself out of his quiet study and went to find his younger son. The ball and chain of Remy's new title should've effectively shackled him to the mansion, at least until he got everything fairly well under control, but a quick walk-through of all of Remy's favorite haunts turned up nothing but a fussy grandchild (Henri and Mercy's first) and Tante Mattie shooing off the young folks, wielding grim determination and a hefty rolling pin.

But no Remy.

Jean-Luc frowned, but had to consider the possibility that Etienne's Tilling was simply taking more time than originally expected. A pinch in the very heart of Assassins' territory required a delicate touch and the careful, watchful eye of a good Registrar. He scowled at the thought.

Here, Remy was supposed to be tied to a desk and he was out in the field, enjoying himself! That simply would not do. What was the point in slaving years away, raising sons, raising a Guild, and then not getting to enjoy his retirement?

"Mercy?" he asked politely, returning to the scene of his fussy granddaughter testing her new teeth against a rubber ducky.

"Oui, Père?" She didn't look up from her work of attempting to extricate the small toy. "Something bothering you?"

"Where's Henri? I'd like to talk to him."

* * *

Remy wasn't too pleased with the turn of events or the way Rogue glared at him darkly as they rode on his bike back to her place. Unfortunately, he couldn't really afford to concentrate on her second thoughts as he had already had to shake three tails, one Assassin for certain, one definitely a Thief (one of the Council's assigned bodyguards, if he wasn't mistaken), and an overzealous cop intent on enforcing the speed limit Remy was flagrantly playing with.

He sighed and slowed to a stop at a light. He flexed his fingers in agitation. He wanted to talk to Rogue, help her understand that he was tied as much to Guild law as she was tied to whatever morals her upbringing had grounded in her. She knew enough to hang Etienne and possibly Remy as well. That was enough to force him into quite a unique set of rules. If she had just butted out when he told her to, maybe he could have smoothed things out without getting her any more tied up than she was.

But no. She had to help them. She just had to have her own way. And then regret it.

The light turned green. Remy roared through the intersection. Only the feel of her arms tightening around him cooled the slight rise in his temper.

What was it about damsels in distress that he simply couldn't resist?

"Almost there," he called over his shoulder, even knowing she couldn't hear it.

Rogue huffed into his back.

He would just have to see what he could do about protecting her—with or without her cooperation.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello to all the faithful readers and reviewers. Thank you for your patience. The group is back with a new chapter and some new members. This chapter was written by Merr2. Please note that none of us own the X-men or anything X-men related.**

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He told himself he was doing this because she was putting her neck on the line to try and help them out. And he needed help—a _lot _of help. He'd gotten in pickles before thanks to his skittishness and paranoia, but he'd always managed to solve all of his problems in the end. But now? He wasn't so sure. Messing up a small, insignificant heist was one thing, but when the Assassins Guild and the possibility of getting exiled was involved…it was quite a different story. A horrific, nightmarish story.

Tying his apron tighter around his waist and taking a deep, cleansing breath, Etienne forced all thoughts of guilds, death, and exile from his mind and went back to looking at the recipe in front him. He'd had Remy bring him a laptop a few days prior, and in his boredom, he'd gone online to find one of Tante Mattie's old recipes. He was sure the online version wouldn't even begin to compare to Tante's random and erratic style of cooking, but he was going to try nonetheless.

Especially since Rogue would be grateful for southern food after her long stay up north—no matter how amateurish the meal happened to be. Not that he was just making it for Rogue of course. It was for himself, too. And _maybe _Remy.

But he was extremely appreciative. After all, she'd spared him what he guessed would've been an awful beating, she was helping in ultimately saving his life, and there was just _something _about her. Something graceful and mysterious and heartbreaking. He wanted to know more about her.

Blushing furiously, Etienne chided himself for his wandering thoughts and added more cayenne to the boiling pot of soup.

Even if he was interested in the green-eyed beauty—which he definitely was _not_—it wouldn't matter because Remy got every fille he wanted, and even some he _didn't_ want. Whether his cousin himself knew it or not didn't matter. Etienne could see the subtle changes in Remy's smile when Rogue got frustrated or even the interest he showed whenever Rogue spoke. It wasn't something a non-family member would notice, but Etienne had been around long enough to notice such minute differences. For him, seeing Remy treat Rogue so differently compared to all the other femmes was a huge, glaring sign. There was, however, hope that maybe Rogue would stay as uninterested in Remy as she had been earlier, but he'd seen Remy work his mojo too many times before to get his hopes up simply because Rogue _acted _like she detested Remy.

Etienne glowered and leaned against the oven, wooden spoon in hand. What was it about his cousin that made women drop their panties on sight? Remy was handsome and suave—but so what? Etienne wasn't one to boast, but he'd had many a femme tell him how handsome he was! And so what if those femmes included his mother, Tante, and Mercy? They wouldn't lie to him.

He ground his teeth even more harshly; thinking about his cousin getting Rogue was downright infuriating. In fact, thinking of Remy in general was really starting to tick him off for some reason: all the times Remy and Theo had left the bar with women on their arms and smirked at him over their shoulders, all the times Remy had pranked him, and not to mention, all the virgin jokes and homosexual jabs he'd gotten over the years came back to him all at once. He was different. He didn't want his first time to be with a stripper just as drunk, or drunker, than he like Theo, and he certainly hadn't wanted to go out and pay _une fille de joie _before the hair had even appeared on his chin, like Remy and Henri had.

He wanted to spend his nights with someone sweet, caring, and intelligent. Someone like— well, someone like Rogue. Hypothetically speaking.

Giving the most pitiful sigh he'd ever heard, and admonishing himself for the fact, Etienne leaned further back against the oven and toed the wooden floor. Minutes later, his head snapped up and his nostrils flared.

In a panic, he realized suddenly that what he was smelling was his burning meal, not thick, depressing angst like he'd originally thought. He whipped around to salvage what he could, only to realize too late that the strings of his apron had somehow wriggled their way beneath the stainless steal pot.

The pot clamored to the floor, spitting up torrents of red sauce, carrots, and ground meat as it did so.

"Merde!" he growled, absolutely fed up with his infamous clumsiness, and lifted the pot, starting the lengthy process of wiping off the cabinet doors as he did so.

He should have known that things would go as bad as they possibly could, and that when he stood up he would slip on the water and sauce, and of course, that he would reach out to grab the counter and stop his fall, thus overturning the plate full of chopped onions and peppers he'd had washed and waiting. The momentum of the flying vegetables hit the bottle of chardonnay he'd picked out solely for this dinner, and it hit the ground with a shattering of glass and a rocketing release of its liquid contents. The fire increased—effectively singing the curtains over the sink beyond repair.

He looked down at the mess on the floor, then the one on the counters, then his ruined pot of soup in the sink, then to the still-burning curtains, and he screamed. He stomped his foot on the bottle, further breaking it, then threw the pot across the room in pure rage.

As good timing would have it, Remy and Rogue just _happened _to step in right at that moment.

…

They came to a stop in front of her home with a roaring screech, and she felt her hair standing on end. That was the last time she went on a bike ride with Remy LeBeau, whose erratic driving rivaled that of Wolverine himself. The two would get along perfectly if they ever met in another life.

It had been a subconscious reaction—tightening her hold around his waist as he sped through the intersection earlier—and nothing more. His alluring aura and smooth tongue (seconds after, she decided that thinking about the texture of his tongue was _not _a good thing—the thought of his mouth and where it had been made her slightly nauseas) were distracting, yes, but thinking of Remy as anything more than an enemy filled her with horror. Besides, she'd had her fill of love, lust, and anything else that fell under 'relationship' with Bobby back in Westchester. In fact, she didn't know if she could _ever _find interest in a man without silently comparing them to Bobby and wondering when and how they would end up hurting her.

And to add to all of that—Remy LeBeau was a conniving, using, rotting bag of flesh, and if he didn't have the means to blackmail her and ruin her reputation she'd make sure to never see him again. And more.

Rogue grinned as her hair whipped across her back. Psyche-Magneto would've been proud of her had he been able to hear the cruel and unusual ways of torture she had mixing around in her mind. Actually, thinking of ways to make it so Remy could never talk again was putting her in a better mood than she'd had all day.

Remy dismounted with a feline grace she could never hope to imitate and held out his partially-gloved hand with a grin.

She raised a delicate eyebrow, begrudgingly impressed with the chivalrous gesture. "Are you this polite all the time? Or am I just special?"

"You're just special, mais sho." He gave her a wink as they headed towards the front gate. "_Very _special. Special enough to need some 'extra help'."

Smile long gone, the belle's eyes narrowed and she shook her head, completely fed-up. "Every time I let myself believe that you're a nice, possibly even charming individual, you do something like that and remind me why I hate you."

He took a step back and painted his face with hurt. "How could you say that, chère? You know how sensitive Remy is!"

She threw open the screen door impatiently. "No, I have no idea how sensitive 'Remy' is." She shoved her key in the lock of the main door and twisted.

"Would you like to?"

Her face went red, and with a glare and a push, she went through the door— silently admitting to leaving herself open for _that _one.

"How old are you again?" she spat as they headed down the hall towards the kitchen. "Rogue can't deal with children until she gets some food in her stomach." Her teeth bit down on her lip in annoyance. There was no way she was going to let herself start talking in third person.

"You _do _know that talking like that is not only annoying, but it also makes you sound like an uneducated twit, too, right?"

He cocked his head to the side, and his brows came together as he sniffed the air. "You smell something burning?"

She guffawed. "Trying to change the subject, hm?" She shook her head. "You don't have to be embarrassed, Remy, really."

He gave her a look, but neglected to continue the discussion. "Mais, we're home now. We get some food and feel better, non?" He yawned and stretched his aching muscles. Following the belle around was the first _real _action he'd had since becoming Patriarch—and he was exhausted.

She glanced up to question him. "_We're _home? The last time I checked there was no mention of 'Remy LeBeau' on my aunt's will." The corner of her lips twitched, and she felt herself begin to smile. The idea of sharing a home with Remy was interesting, to say the least.

He sighed wistfully. "You sure are pretty when you're thinking."

"But earlier you said I was pretty when I was mad, and before that you said I was pretty when I was annoyed." She smirked, thinking that she had finally stumped him.

The Cajun shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands up in the air helplessly. "What can I say? Some ladies are just gorgeous no matter what they do."

It was then that Rogue became hyperaware of just how close she and Remy were. She felt the brush of his shoulder as they walked down the hall, she felt his cool breath playing with the wisps of her hair every time he spoke, and most importantly, she could _hear _the machines of his mind churning and clanking. He was thinking about something, albeit secretly, but she learned enough from Logan to know when someone was distracted.

She couldn't blame him for being distracted, and he was impressed—if not envious—of the manner in which he kept the tension from his shoulders and worry from his features. His flashing orbs of crimson, however, were not as easy to calm.

They opened the door just as Etienne threw a large pot against the far wall. It hit with a 'clang', then fell to the ground with a resounding thud. There was sauce, food, and water on the tiled floor and counter tops, and she could smell something alcoholic in the air.

She hadn't lived in the house long, but it was still _her _house, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness. And seeing such blatant disregard of her home was just…infuriating. Especially since she hadn't yet eaten and was ferociously tired from her earlier questioning and argument with Remy.

She snapped, and poor Etienne was the receiver of her pent-up rage. "What. The. Hell?"

She saw that Etienne's mouth was open in both shock and terror, but she made no effort to conceal her disbelief and anger.

"Who do you think you are? You're a guest here, swamp trash, and guests don't ruin their host's kitchen!" She placed her hands saucily on her hips. "Jesus, it's even worse than _before _you cleaned up!"

"Rogue I—"

"Are those curtains on _fire_?"

He went ghostly white. "I got bored," Etienne stuttered, "so I thought I'd make—"

"You got _bored_?" Rogue clipped out, oblivious to Remy's amused chuckle and the fear of the man in front of her. "Getting _bored _merits destroying a perfectly good kitchen?"

Etienne wanted to salvage the situation, but he didn't have the same communicating skills as his older cousin. "Come on, Rogue. I didn't 'destroy' it, I just made a mess and—" He quickly stopped himself when seeing that her face was getting redder and more strained with every word he spoke.

"I'm sorry—"

Remy saw Rogue's growing fury as his signal and decided to step in. "Come on, chère." He grasped her shoulders and guided her away from the sulking Etienne. "Let's go get some food. And you"—he directed at his flustered cousin—"get this mess cleaned up _before _we get back, d'accord?"

"Your word is my duty, _Patriarch_," he spat.

Remy felt the sting of Etienne's tone but paid no mind. Getting Rogue away from the house and putting food in her stomach was the primary issue.

"We'll be back soon, mon cousin."

"Yeah, whatever," he heard Etienne grumble.

…

"Do you think I…overreacted?" she asked after they'd walked in complete silence for some time.

He smirked knowingly. "Just a bit. The boy's in love with you, chère. Mais, after seeing that temper? I'm not so sure you didn't scare him away."

With a bitter snort, Rogue shoved her hands in her pockets. Keeping her hands immobile was a good way to break her habit of picking at them. She'd started the habit years ago when she'd still had to wear gloves, but they had all been burned—with Logan's advice—long ago. But for some reason, after all the years of being cured, her mind still found that particular motion to be comforting.

"In that case, I did him a favor. Loving me ain't worth what it cracks up to be."

He came to a stop in front of a quaint, lighted café and placed his hand on the lower region of her back.

Instead of pushing him away like she'd done to the man at the bar, Rogue felt herself leaning into his touch. It'd been so long since she'd been intimate with a man, since before things went sour between her and Bobby, but she recognized the slow wave of desire creeping up and down her spine.

Damn her hormones and damn Remy LeBeau.

His disheveled hair fell more prominently in his eyes as he turned to regard her, and she ducked her head in horror at seeing the pity in his eyes and around his mouth. She hadn't pegged him as the caring, observing type, but she supposed it was hard for a person _not _to hear the remorse and aching wounds in her voice.

She was a bitter, hurting woman—and Remy could pick up on that. She wondered if he could tell her ailment was heartbreak, and if he could—what was he thinking? Was he silently gloating and smirking, or was his pity sincere?

"Is there a reason we're standing out here?" She left him on the sidewalk and entered the café. "I'm starving, you know."

"Patience is a virtue," he said all sing-song like.

"I can't believe it." She felt his warmth against her as he led her to a booth. "A thieving whore is telling me how to be virtuous." She slid into the nearer seat and rested her cheek on her poised hand. "You really do see something different every day."

"Whore?" He grabbed a salt-shaker and faked outrage. "Mon dieu, the slanderous rumors people spread about me! Remy is but a poor, kind-hearted Cajun, who just happens to know the secrets of making femmes melt in the palm of his hand." His grin was devilish. "Literally."

She willed her cheeks to remain cool, and somehow, she succeeded. Her pounding heart, however, had a mind of its own. "Poor thing, you sound _so _miserable."

He nodded pitifully. "Having the lovemaking skills of a god and the face of an angel is a harsh burden to bear. The femmes—" He tilted his head to the ceiling and closed his eyes dramatically. "I can't go nowhere without them putting their hands all over me!"

She rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose. "Ever heard of something called 'humble pie'? You should buy a few dozen and _then _come talk to me."

"Don't say that, chère! Just wish I had a femme to treat me right is all." He captured her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles.

She could see the red of his pulsating behind his shades as he looked at her, and his lips remained on her sensitive flesh much longer than what was necessary.

She pried her hand away, and her legs unconsciously clamped together. She silently thanked the lucky stars when the waiter came to their table.

"_Bonjour_. I'm Barnard, and it is my plaisir to serve you today. Will you be trying our spéciale this afternoon?"

"Non merci." He scanned over the decorative menu with an air of familiarity. It took him only a few moments to decide. "The lady and I will have the _frittata_ with a side of _salade niçoise_." He pursed his lips and trailed his finger down a different part of the menu. "I'll have bourbon, and for the lady—"

"I'll have an ice tea." She glared at her companion.

Barnard smiled graciously as he scribbled the order down. "The chief will have your meal ready soon, M'sieu. Meanwhile, I'll bring your drinks and _gressins _right away." He gave a nod in Rogue's general direction before parting.

She chose then to make her annoyance known. "What was that? I'm not helpless, Remy. I can order my own damn meal—"

He gave her a look so sultry and undressing she paused mid-sentence. "Trust me, chère. Let me choose this one thing." He licked his lips unconsciously. "Just lay back, relax, and let me do all the work. You won't regret it, Je promets."

The double innuendo was so glaringly obvious that Rogue didn't know how to respond. So she changed the subject. "Tell me about your mutation. Can you do anything cool?"

He noted the attempt at switching the topic, as well as her flushed face. He made no comment—yet. "I specialize in energy. I see it, feel it, then wield it. I'm a ticking time bomb just ready to blow."

"Oh for god's sake—"

He grinned, and for the duration of their meal together it was easy to forget. Or pretend, he wasn't sure which one. All he knew was that for a few hours, his mind wasn't wrapped up in thoughts of Belle or the guilds. He felt like pre-Patriarch Remy, before all the stress, and paperwork, and responsibility. She released him, made him laugh, made him carefree. He delighted in her furious blushing and witty comebacks. He enjoyed watching the movement of her plump lips and the sparks within her emerald eyes. He liked listening to her husky voice and eloquent manner of speaking.

He downed the rest of his glass and patted his throbbing gut. "Don't know about you, mais I am absolutely stuffed." He stood up and swayed. "Actually, I don't know if I can hold myself up—" He fell on top of Rogue, who gasped at the sudden pressure of his weight.

"Get _off_!" She pushed at him desperately, only to feel his head flop back atop her shoulder.

"Can't…move. So…full."

"The only thing you're full of is shit, swamp rat!" Gaining the proper leverage, the belle was finally able to wriggle her way from beneath Remy. He dropped to the chair with a 'clunk.'

"That wasn't very nice."

She was too busy smoothing her blouse and leather pants to take him seriously. "Don't care."

His eyes lazily followed the movement of her hands against the leather, and he decided that he'd _very _much like her in his bed.

…

_ma cousine _my cousin

_merde _shit

_de travialle femme _prostitute. Literally: the working woman.

_mais sho _of course. but of course.

_d'accord _okay. alright.

_salade niÇoise _main course salad. Includes: tuna fish, tomatoes, etc.

_frittata _egg-based dish

_plasir _pleasure

_gressins _breadsticks


	13. Chapter 13

**Here is another chapter brought to you by the wonderful Bellkie. Again,non of the members of our group own the X-men,X-men the movie or any part of Rogue or Gambit. Thanks to all who have reviewed and placed the story in the alert or favorite system.**

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Rogue had to admit, even if only to herself, that she'd actually enjoyed herself at dinner. She missed the feeling of being out with a man, especially in a date-like atmosphere. _Whoa_. Rogue slammed the brakes on that train of thought. It was not a date! It…it was a mutual need for nourishment. Yeah, that's it. As happy as she would be to believe that, there was the soft voice in the back of her mind, prodding her to believe that the night was, in fact, a date.

Remy was fascinated. Watching people's faces had always been a skill of his, a skill he had honed in his thief training. With the average person, their facial expressions gave away their every thought, mood and intention. Rogue, however, was completely different. He was able to tell when she was thinking especially hard, and could pinpoint when her thoughts shifted, but for the life of him, he couldn't tell what her thoughts were! When her eyebrows pulled together in a slight frown, he spoke up.

"Are you feeling okay, chère?"

"Huh?" she asked. She shook her head, admonishing herself for not paying attention. They had made it six blocks from the café and she didn't remember a second of it. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you feeling okay? You seem distracted."

Rogue valiantly fought off a blush at his words, glad that he didn't know just how distracting he could be. "I'm fine," she insisted, waving his concern away. Half of her was pleased that he cared about her wellbeing, while the other half was completely ticked off that he thought she needed his assistance. In true Rogue fashion, she chose to act on the anger. "As fine as I can be with two hooligan thieves trying to run my house."

"Hooligans, she calls us!" Remy cried with a pout. "We are nothing but humble men of New Orleans, living an…alternative lifestyle."

"Alternative lifestyle? Sounds an awful lot like your alternative lifestyle is something along the lines of being a drag queen," Rogue said with a smile.

"You're just jealous that if we were drag queens, we'd be prettier than you."

"In your dreams, swamp rat."

Remy casually slung an arm around Rogue's shoulders. She stiffened at the sudden contact before relaxing into his touch. They walked in silence for a few minutes, both surprised at the comfortable familiarity. Remy sighed when his phone started ringing and disentangled himself from her to answer it. He frowned, seeing it was Henri. Without answering, he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

"What was that?" Rogue asked.

"Nothing, Guild business. Not anything you need to get involved in." Remy paused before adding, "Not that that seems to bother you."

"Hmph." Rogue snorted. "I admitted I was wrong, but no, you won't let me out. It's like accidently getting involved in a gang."

Remy laughed at that. "Accidently? Désolé chère, but there was nothing accidental about your involvement."

"You used my house, remember? It's not like I sought you out!" Rogue said indignantly.

Remy snorted. "Are we living in the same reality? Because as I remember, I tried very hard to keep you from being involved at all. You threatened and wormed your way in."

"I told you I'd made a mistake and didn't want to be in the middle of this!" Rogue nearly yelled.

"And yet you are. Désolé," he said grimly. "I told you that it's no longer possible for you to be uninvolved. It's not just our safety that's at stake, it's yours."

Rogue glared. "What does that mean? Are you threatening me?"

"What, no! This is dangerous. My job is dangerous. Yes, you like adventure, but is our problem worth you getting killed?"

Rogue frowned, unsure how to answer.

"You don't understand that stakes here, so you need to learn to do what I say. Welcome to the Remy LeBeau Dictatorship."

Rogue crossed her arms and sulked beside him as they continued the walk back to her house. The flirty atmosphere was long gone. For his part, Remy was equally as frustrated with Rogue as she was with him. This infuriating woman would not listen! Everything he wanted accomplished would benefit her as well as Etienne and himself. After all, if the Assassins found out about her involvement, she wouldn't exactly last long.

Remy told himself that even though he was attracted to her, he only wanted her around for her own protection. However, as he watched the fiery woman and her perfect curves from the corner of his eye, he knew that wasn't entirely true. And he found himself a little peeved by that.

Things did not improve for Remy by the time they arrived back at Rogue's house. She was mad as hell and as soon as they were close, she stormed through the front door and stomped to her room. Remy was in a few seconds later to see a very shocked Etienne standing with a dirty rag in his hand.

"What'd you do?" Etienne asked, horrified.

"It doesn't matter," Remy said, waving off Etienne's concern.

"It does to me!" Etienne practically squeaked. "She's in charge! Do you have any idea how terrifying she is when she's really mad? No, of course not. Does the phrase _frying pan_ mean anything to you?"

Remy just raised an eyebrow. "She's in charge?" he asked. "Have you joined a new guild, perhaps related to maid service?"

"Of course not, Patriarch," Etienne mumbled.

Remy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn't like pulling out the Patriarch card, he'd much rather associate as a friend, but he was quickly learning that sometimes friendly just wasn't going to work. This Patriarch business was a lot less fun than he'd originally thought, and he'd originally thought it sucked. The new responsibility was what he'd expected but now he was questioning how this was going to affect his friendships. If being Patriarch meant losing Etienne, and his other friends, maybe he didn't want the job.

"Get some sleep, Et. I'll be by tomorrow. We'll figure this out," Remy said and clapped his cousin on the shoulder. "We'll work on it, yes?"

Etienne nodded and went back to cleaning.

With a sigh, Remy left.

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By the time he reached the Guild Headquarters, he'd already decided not to use the front entrance. By now, Henri would want to hear about what progress they'd made and why Remy had ignored his call. He really wasn't excited to tell Henri that they'd basically ran around in a circle. Remy easily scaled the side of the building, sliding in through his window in a few seconds. He looked around his room and frowned.

"Henri?" he asked the seemingly empty room.

"Damn!" Henri's voice came. The bedside table's door popped open and Henri unfolded himself from the small space.

"Getting sloppy, old man," Remy commented, amused smile on his face.

Henri cracked his back, pulling himself up from the floor.

"Why are you climbing in the window?" Henri asked.

"Why are you hiding in a cupboard?" Remy countered.

"Hiding from Père."

"Hiding from you. Wait, why are you hiding from Père?"

"He's been looking for you, Remy. And when he couldn't find you, he started looking for me. I think he knows something's wrong," Henri said.

"Merde!" Remy swore, rubbing his face. "Never could keep a secret from that man."

"Please tell me you solved this." Remy didn't look up at Henri's plea. Henri swore. "Now what?"

Remy turned to his brother. "Now, we get a little sleep. Tomorrow, you're going to keep avoiding Père. I don't care how. Go to the rec center and sign up for ballet and Lamaze classes if you have to—just don't let him know what's going on. Keep him in the dark as if your life is hanging in the balance," Remy said.

Henri nodded grimly. "It already is, all of ours are, if you think about it."

"I'm trying not to."

True to Remy's orders, Henri kept himself very busy the next day. He was up early to bully a few younger Guild members into joining him on a four mile run. After, he stopped by the nursery and spent a few hours helping the harassed woman with the younger children. Later, he took to the roof, claiming it was vitally important that he check every inch immediately for any sign of moss. It could cause deadly roof collapses, you know.

After, he managed to convince Mercy to join him for a bite to eat and a shopping trip. Mercy was immediately suspicious, as it was nothing like her husband to suggest, voluntarily, that she shop. In the end, she decided to go with it, vowing to uncover his motivation later.

It was nearly dark by the time Mercy was finally done and they made it back to their room. Henri collapsed backwards onto their bed, arms full of shopping bags, belatedly realizing his father would easily find him there. Sure enough, Jean-Luc rounded the corner seconds later.

"Oh, Henri, mon fils, I see you've been very busy today. I'm glad I've found time to speak with you."

Henri briefly considered throwing the bags of Mercy's new lingerie at his father and making a run for it, but resigned with a sigh. "Oui, Père."

Remy, however, had a completely different day. As soon as he woke up, at a horrible and ungodly hour, even for him, he'd taken off. He'd visited a few of his less reputable contacts, discreetly inquiring about the chalice. No one had heard anything. At least, if they had, they weren't talking.

That was one of the few problems with being involved with the Guild. Having that much power and weight behind you either earned you a following of groupies (amateur thieves) or a bunch of terrified people not willing to work with you. Remy still felt the benefits of being involved in the Guild's community outweighed the disadvantages. The avenues open to him, especially now that he was Patriarch, were astounding.

And yet…and yet with all the advantages to being Patriarch, it still felt wrong to Remy. It felt an awful lot like climbing the corporate ladder to take his father's position and to be honest, he wasn't sure if he was cut out for it. Also, he was starting to feel the sting of loneliness. It wasn't only that he missed the company of a woman (it was difficult to hit the normal night spots when he was ass deep in paperwork), but he also missed being a friend rather than 'the boss'. Plus, the stress of dealing with the Assassins was going to drive him out of his mind!

* * *

It wasn't until the afternoon that Remy made it back to Rogue's house. She had Etienne cleaning the second floor, emphasizing the bathroom since he seemed to enjoy the view in that room so much. Remy snickered when he saw Etienne scrubbing the floor, prompting Etienne to throw a toilet brush at his cousin. Unfortunately, Rogue saw this and walloped him with said toilet brush.

"Did you have something to contribute?" Rogue asked Remy hotly. "Or are you here to harass my indentured help?"

"Indentured help?" Remy asked amused.

"Yep. He owes me."

"How so?"

"By being a peeping tom, then setting my kitchen on fire," Rogue answered matter-of-factly. Etienne blushed. "Plus, he's not paying rent."

"Can't argue there, Et," Remy conceded. "Though actually, I came to say that I spoke with some of my contacts today. They all claim to have no knowledge of the chalice or its whereabouts." Etienne groaned. "Mercy's search of pawnshops isn't going well either."

"So where does that leave us?" Rogue asked.

"Royally screwed," Etienne said.

Remy kicked his foot. "If you think negatively, you'll get negative results."

"An optimist?" Rogue asked wryly.

"Only thinking pessimistically doesn't help matter. It's true that you need to plan for the worst case scenario but don't assume it'll happen," Remy said.

"Plan for the worst, hope for the best?" Rogue asked.

"Exactement."

"Hm. So, like I asked, where does that leave us?"

Remy ran a hand over his face before answering. "I'm not sure. There are a few ways to go about it. One is going for a blunt approach, letting everyone know we are looking for the chalice and that we aren't screwing around about this."

"Why does that sound like such a bad idea to me?" Rogue asked.

"Because it is," Remy said, sounding tired. "If we broadcast that we 'at some point' stole the chalice, and now lost it, it'll make tensions explode. And all kinds of opportunistic, pain in the ass amateurs will come out of the woodwork trying to either help, which would make a mess, or help the Assassins, which would be a bigger mess. It would just make life more complicated. Plus, it would mean the Guild would find out that Etienne failed his tilling, which would go to a council vote and probably would end in Etienne being banned. "

"I see. What's option two?"

"What we are doing now. We subtly inquire to various people, contacts, search like we are...things like that. It's harder now. In normal situations, time is essential, but now we have an outside deadline instead of just wanting it back for ourselves, so it's even more complicated."

"Yeah, and how's that working for you?" Rogue asked sarcastically.

Remy gave her a cold look. "This may be just an adrenaline rush for you, but this is serious. This is business and about Etienne's life," Remy said. Rogue's blasé attitude today was really bothering him.

Rogue frowned at him slightly. "That's not what I was saying and you know it."

Remy stared at her for a few seconds before looking at his cousin. "I'm going to check with a few out of town people who have fenced some items for me in the past, I'll be back later tonight. If you think of anything, call me." Remy turned around with a nod to Rogue and made his way out of the house.

Etienne glanced at Rogue before going to back to cleaning the bathroom.

"Well," Rogue said at last. "Since there was a bit of a kitchen fiasco last night, I have no food left." Etienne blushed again. "I'm going to pick up supplies, I'll be back later."

It turned out food wasn't the only thing her house was lacking. A quick inventory revealed a serious need for toilet paper, food, paper towels, and tampons, and she felt a very strong desire to replace the kitchen curtains Etienne burned. It didn't take too long for Rogue to find an all purpose type store, though she realized the decorative options were a lot different than in New York. After ten exasperating minutes of sorting through dozens of floral patterns, she blindly grabbed a royal purple package and tossed it into the shopping.

"It's a beautiful color," a deep voice commented over her shoulder.

Rogue swung around, automatically taking a few steps back from the dark man invading her personal space. His hair fell over his shoulders, sunglasses perched atop his head. He stared at her with oddly piercing eyes that made Rogue vaguely uncomfortable.

"Yes, it is," Rogue answered. "If you'll excuse me, I have to be going." Rogue turned and made to go down the next aisle.

"You won't find the chalice on any supermarket shelf," he called after her.

She turned back to look at him, frowning. "Excuse me?" she asked, stunned.

The man crossed the distance and took her hand, shaking it gently, as if he was afraid she was made of glass.

"I forgot to introduce myself, how rude of me. My name is Bandit, I know what's going on and I can help you."

"I…how…what?" Rogue stuttered, her brain still seemingly disconnected from the rest of her.

"Why don't we be civilized and discuss this over lunch?" he suggested. "There's a charming little place around the corner."

Rogue frowned. This man's attempt at smooth talking her would be impressive if she didn't have Remy to compare him to. Hell, compared to Remy, Bandit looked like a bumbling fool. But, fool or not, he wanted something, and she needed to know what that was.

"Sure," she said slowly. "I could use lunch."

Bandit was the perfect gentleman; he held the door open for her and pulled the chair for her before she sat down. Normally, the southern girl inside her would love it, but for some reason she was unnerved by the man. They both ordered, and only after their waiter told them it would be about fifteen minutes did Rogue speak.

"How do you know about the chalice?"

"Right to the point, huh? I like it. I have friends in the Assassins Guild. There's talk about what's going on with the chalice. Tensions are building, and when things get tense between the Thieves and the Assassins, things get messy. I have no interest in seeing more war and my friends' blood shed," he said, staring at her.

"So you're an Assassin?" she asked, feeling a sting of fear.

"No, I'm a Thief."

"Great." Rogue groaned and closed her eyes. "Just what I need."

"I know that LeBeau has fumbled this. He's going to ruin the peace that has barely just begun. The LeBeaus are too emotional as leaders. They don't care about what's good for everyone, just what is good for themselves," Bandit said. "Remy LeBeau only cares for himself, and he is going to start a terrible and bloody war that none of us are ready for."

"Why do you hate Remy?" she asked. That was the second time he mentioned this war, and it was starting to annoy Rogue that Remy hadn't informed her of this possibility.

Bandit frowned at her. "I didn't say I hate LeBeau."

"You act like you do. Spill."

"LeBeau is the reason I had to leave my home," Bandit said.

Rogue looked at him expectantly.

"I was contracted for a job in Chicago. LeBeau knew this and finished the job out from under me with no warning. I was in the Thieves Guild in Chicago and the leaders were…less than pleased with me. I couldn't get any jobs; the Guild wouldn't let me. I had to leave Chicago, so I came here and started over. I've lost everything, my life, the people I love, all because of LeBeau." Bandit spat Remy's name.

Rogue struggled to keep her thoughts off her face. It sounded a lot like Bandit was more interested in slamming Remy than his supposed friends' lives.

"How oblivious could they be to lose something like that, especially in a bar?"

Rogue nearly smiled at that. She hadn't said anything about a bar, leaving her to wonder how exactly Bandit knew about that.

"So what do you want?" Rogue asked.

Bandit's eyes ran across Rogue's face, trying to decipher if he was making an impact one way or another, but he was finding, like Remy, that Rogue was obnoxiously difficult to read. "I want to help you find the chalice. It needs to get back to the Assassins so we can avoid more needless violence."

"Oh, so you're a humanitarian," Rogue commented. She assessed him for a few seconds while she organized her thoughts. Whoever this Bandit was, he wasn't on the level. He wanted something from her, even if she didn't know what it was. She knew that he wanted to use her for something. Well, two can play at that game. "Okay."

"Okay?" he asked.

"Okay," she said again. "I'll help you find the chalice. You're right. Innocent people don't deserve to die over this."

She gave him her cell phone number before standing and leaving the restaurant. She was getting an itching feeling that Bandit was way more involved with the chalice than he was letting on, and she was determined to find out just how far that involvement went. She contemplated whether or not to tell Remy about the encounter, then finally decided that if he was going to keep secrets from her, she was fine keeping them from him.

One thing that Bandit said did make sense though. Remy was fumbling this situation.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**This chapter is brought to you by the lovely Chellerbelle. Enjoy and once again none of the members of the ROMY Round Robin own Remy, Rogue or any of the X-men.**

Remy didn't get back to Rogue's home until about ten that evening, and it was she who answered the door.

"How'd it go with your contacts?" Rogue asked, holding the door open for him.

"No luck, I'm afraid," Remy replied. "But they'll keep an eye out for it. What about you?"

Rogue hesitated briefly as she shut the door after him. "Nothing yet. Etienne's in the shower."

"You looked?" Remy asked cheekily.

"If I did," Rogue replied dryly, "it's only what he deserves."

Remy chuckled.

"I was just about to head off to bed," Rogue went on.

"Mind if I join you?"

Rogue glared at him and Remy grinned innocently back at her.

"What?" he asked. "I'm getting tired myself."

"Filthy swamp rat," she said with a flick of her hair. "I'm going to bed, _alone_. Don't make a mess of my house while you're waiting for Etienne."

Remy smiled as he watched Rogue turn her back on him and saunter up the stairs. When she was gone from view, he got comfortable on the lounge.

...

Rogue woke up first the next morning. Clad in pale green pajamas, she made her way downstairs, and walked straight for the kitchen to get the coffee started. It was only after her cup was made and she had taken her first sip, that she wandered back out to the livingroom and spotted Remy fast asleep on the lounge. Rogue looked at him for a time, wondering if she should wake him up or let him sleep.

As it turned out, Remy woke on his own before Rogue needed to decide. He shuffled in his sleep, opened his eyes and frowned slightly as he turned on his side.

"Morning," Rogue said, and had another sip of her coffee.

Remy half sat up and rubbed his head.

"Morning," he said groggily.

"You forget to leave last night?" Rogue asked.

Remy swung his legs off the side of the lounge.

"I was waiting for Etienne," he said slowly. "Guess I must have fallen asleep."

"Guess so," Rogue said. "Coffee's ready in the kitchen if you want any."

"Merci."

Remy took a moment, then pulled himself up off the lounge. He stretched his arms above his head as he headed for the kitchen, rotating his shoulders and back to get out all the kinks that had formed from sleeping on the lounge. Rogue followed him and took out a clean mug from the cupboard for him. He thanked her again, poured himself a cup, and then stepped away from the bench as he took his first sip.

"You got new curtains," Remy said, nodding towards the bright, floral print curtains, which neatly matched the rest of the kitchen.

Rogue shrugged. "Et burned the last ones."

"Oh, that's right," Remy said, belatedly remembering the fire in the kitchen. "How much were they?"

Rogue told him. Remy put his mug down, then pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and handed out a note to her. Rogue stared at it in confusion.

"Keep the change," Remy said when she didn't take it straight away.

"Umm..."

"For the curtains."

"Oh, yeah, I got... I just," Rogue stammered uncertainly as she slowly reached to take the note. "I wasn't expecting you to pay for them, is all."

Remy shrugged. "I want Et to stay here for his safety, not so he can destroy the place. Although, that said, you might want to think about getting a building inspection done. This place has been abandoned for a few years now, plenty of time for it to fall into disrepair and attract unwanted visitors."

"Like the ones I have now?" Rogue asked, tilting her head slightly to the side and regarding him with a slight smile.

"Worse," Remy said cheerfully. "Teenagers who think the place is haunted by the crazy old bat who used to live here."

"Aunt Irene wasn't crazy," Rogue said, glaring at him.

"I never said that's what I thought of her," Remy replied, even though he did, "I said that's what the teenagers looking for a cheap thrill thought of her."

Rogue gave a grunt of displeasure and Remy looked her over as he picked up his coffee again.

"You know, chère," he said slyly, "I bet those teens would be in for a shock if they saw you instead of Ms Alder's ghost."

"Damn straight," Rogue replied. "Trespassers have a tendency to be hit by frying pans around here."

Remy chuckled.

"You haven't got me yet," he said with a grin.

"Looking to fix that?" Rogue asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"I suppose it depends on where you were planning on hitting me," Remy said mischievously, "and what you were wearing at the time."

"How do pajamas sound?" Rogue said dryly.

"Your room or mine?"

"Ugh," Rogue said, turning to the counter to refill her mug. "It is way too early in the morning for this."

"I disagree," Remy said. "It's never too early in the morning to admire a très belle femme."

"Oh admiring," Rogue said cynically. "That's what you call it."

"That's what he calls what?" asked Etienne as he entered the kitchen.

"Making sexual innuendo."

"Oh," Etienne said, frowning slightly at Remy.

Remy shrugged. "It's too early in the morning to be suave and debonair."

"I'm sorry," said Rogue with false sweetness as she lifted her mug to her lips. "You actually know what those words mean?"

"When did you get here?" Etienne interrupted, looking at Remy.

"Last night," Remy replied with a shrug. "You were in the shower."

"Oh," Etienne said, getting a mug out for himself.

"I waited," Remy said while Etienne got his own coffee. "And waited. And waited some more. And eventually fell asleep. Just what exactly where you doing in there, anyway?"

"What? In the shower?"

"Oui."

"Umm, washing myself. That's kind of what you do in the shower."

"Oh washing," Remy said with a wink at Rogue. "That's what you call it."

Rogue didn't know whether to groan, or laugh at Etienne's half horrified, half embarrassed reaction.

"Remy!" Etienne exclaimed. "That's not... I... You... Have you found the chalice yet?"

"Non," Remy replied, the smirk vanishing from his face. "Not yet."

...

Bella Donna surveyed the council chamber of the Assassins Guild. She stood on a dais before the members of the High Council, (which Bella Donna felt was code for "old farts who can't do any real work, and would rather sit around arguing all day about trivial matters"), and her core group of friends who made up her "real" council.

"If you're all quite done rambling," Bella Donna said, her voice cutting sharply through the din, "I didn't call this meeting for the sake of it."

It was much more fun meeting with apprentices, she decided. A few well-aimed daggers scared even the most unruly would-be assassin. Unfortunately, they insisted on growing up and realising that their lives were never in any real danger.

"Much better," she said as they quieted. "It may have escaped your attention, but there are more important things to discuss than what colour the leather grips on the next shipment of throwing daggers should be. There has been a theft."

Murmurings began, and Bella Donna nodded towards one of her friends, Fifolet. Fifolet lifted his hand and shot at the ceiling with a small handgun. The hall silenced once more and Bella Donna watched as plaster from the ceiling hit the floor. If they kept this up they'd have no choice but to finally remodel the council chamber. Some may find the French Colonial architecture "charming", but Bella Donna preferred the nice, clean look of a more modern room. She was already planning what she wanted the remodelled council room to look like.

"The item in question is a certain heirloom, which has been in the possession of the Boudreaux family since the very conception of the Guild," Bella Donna said at her leisure, her voice no less commanding. "Candra's chalice."

"Only the Thieves would have dared –" one councillor began.

"I have already spoken with Remy LeBeau," Bella Donna said, gracing the councillor with a scornful, withering glance. "The Thieves have a week... no, only five days now, in which to return the chalice, or I shall extract payment from Remy LeBeau himself, _personally_."

"You are aware that if you kill the Patriarch of the Thieves Guild, you guarantee war," another councillor said gravely.

"You're not afraid of a bunch of Thieves are you?" Bella Donna asked scornfully. "If anyone should be quivering in his boots, it should be the Thief who stole the chalice. What's more! If we're just _allowing_ Thieves to walk in here and steal from us, then we have obviously grown complacent. Now, let's see... Who's in charge of security?"

Bella Donna knew perfectly well which councillor was in charge, and the smile she gave him as he stepped forth and identified himself was so charming it was unnerving.

"I am, of course," said the security chief.

"You're fired," Bella Donna replied. "You may go now."

"But I –"

"We can make that a _literal_ firing if you want."

The former security chief looked around the hall nervously, trying to garner support. But none came and he bowed his head a fraction in acquiescence as he backed towards the main doors.

"That won't be necessary," he said.

The room remained silent until he left.

"Questa," Bella Donna said, looking towards her silver-haired friend. "You're now in charge of security."

A couple of the other councillors began to voice objections, but Fifolet shot at the ceiling again, bringing down more plaster, and silencing them once more.

"Merci, Matriarch," Questa replied formally. "I shall start with a full review of current security procedures."

"Bon," Bella Donna replied. "The rest of you, you shall prepare your divisions should the Thieves fail to return the chalice. That is all."

With her head up high, Bella Donna strode from the room, her friends, Fifolet, Questa and Gris Gris close behind. The door shut loudly behind them.

"Playing devil's advocate for a second here, Belle," said Gris Gris, her second-in-command, "are you sure you want to risk war over some cheap trinket that's been gathering dust in storage all this time?"

"The chalice is not a 'cheap trinket', and even if it was, it's the principal of the thing," Bella Donna replied firmly. "The more I think about it, the more incensed I get! The very nerve of that man, sneaking into _my_ home and putting his paws on _my_ things."

"Are you sure it was Remy?" asked Questa.

"Who else would have the audacity?" Bella Donna demanded. "I've no doubt that he's responsible. I've got Donyell tracking him."

"Bandit?" Fifolet said, turning up his nose. "He's a thief too."

"Exactly. He can follow Remy to places we can't," Bella Donna said. "That makes him the perfect man for the job."

"It's been two days," said Gris Gris.

"Likely Remy will wait until the last minute to hand it over."

"Calling your bluff?" Questa asked, a grim smile on her face.

"He'll learn not to gamble with me," Bella Donna replied coolly. "In fact, I think we should send them a little message, just to make sure they know we're serious."

Gris Gris cracked his thick knuckles. "I'll take care of it."

...

Henri sat down behind the mound of paperwork that had been piling up on Remy's desk. Catching up on the paperwork seemed like a good idea earlier when he was trying to think of ways to hide Remy's absence while he searched for the chalice, but now that he was looking at it, Henri was having second thoughts.

Henri sighed and pulled down the first report. There were some who wondered if he was at all bitter about not being named heir, despite being the eldest and Jean-Luc's only flesh-and-blood child, but Henri wasn't the slightest bit disappointed about missing out on having to do paperwork. As he began to read the report, he made a mental note to take it out of Remy's hide later.

He was only halfway through the first report when there was a knock on the door.

"Come," Henri said, reluctantly putting the papers down.

The door opened and the Minister of Hoard – the Guild accountant – stepped inside.

"Oh, it's you Henri," said the Minister, looking at him with disappointment. "I thought Remy..."

"He's busy checking up on something," Henri replied. "There something I can help you with?"

"I'm waiting for his feedback on a report I left for him a few days ago."

"Well," said Henri, gesturing to the piles of paperwork, "as you can see, he probably hasn't gotten to it yet."

The Minister of Hoard pressed his lips together tightly.

"I know Remy is only recently the Patriarch," he said tersely, "but he's going to have to do better than this. Jean-Luc never would have let things pile up this much."

"I guess you never visited his office after Superbowl Sunday," Henri replied blithely. "I'm sure Remy is well aware of his responsibilities and the importance of your reports, and he will get back to you as soon as he's able."

The Minister of Hoard was still unimpressed when he left. Henri managed to get through a few reports, making notes for Remy as he went, when there was another knock at the door. One of the younger, female Thieves entered at Henri's word. Her blouse was unbuttoned at the top just one button too many.

"Oh, bonjour Monsieur Henri," the shapely blonde said. "I don't suppose Remy is here?"

"He's busy checking up on something," Henri replied. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Genard Alouette sent me," she said, now looking a little uncertain. "He put in a request for a new warehouse and wanted to know if he had the go ahead or not."

Henri was about to ask why Genard didn't come himself when he realised the answer was standing right in front of him. He supposed Remy's reputation had preceded him and when the matter of the chalice was over, he was going to be _very_ interested in finding out if it became a trend for the different managers to send pretty female Thieves in Remy's direction whenever they wanted something.

"Tell Genard Remy hasn't had a chance to have a look at it yet," Henri replied. "He'll get back to him as soon as he can."

"Oui monsieur," she said, and departed.

Henri sighed and scratched his head. He'd wanted to hide Remy's absence, not highlight it, although he supposed there still would have been visits to Remy's office regardless. He hemmed and hawed for a moment, then continued with the paperwork: if he could fish out the things that needed Remy's direct approval, he could pass that stuff onto Remy for him to take care of. At least then people would 'see' him working.

Henri had made a significant hole in the paperwork when there was yet a third knock at the door. At his instruction, the door opened and another young woman entered.

"Bonjour Monsieur LeBeau," she said. "I was looking for the Patriarch."

"He's busy checking up on something at the moment," Henri replied. "Who sent you?"

The young woman looked confused. "No one. I was just wondering how Etienne's Tilling was going. I, umm, we haven't heard from him in awhile, and the Patriarch is his Registrar..."

"As far as I know, Etienne's still casing the place," Henri lied smoothly. "Breaking into the Boudreaux Mansion isn't a job to be taken lightly."

"Of course," she replied. "Merci. I'll let you get back to work now."

Henri watched her leave and a small smile appeared on his face. He wondered if Etienne knew he had an 'interested' friend.

...

"Jean-Luc, there you are!"

Jean-Luc turned around and looked down the hall to see Mercy coming towards him with an occupied baby carrier strapped to her front.

"Oui, Mercy?" he inquired. "I was just looking for Remy, or Henri, whichever one I found first."

"Well, this is more important," Mercy informed him in her no-nonsense, business-like fashion as she carefully took off the baby carrier. "I need you to take care of your granddaughter for a while."

"Now isn't really -"

"I need to go down the street and grab a few things," Mercy continued as if Jean-Luc hadn't interrupted at all. "Diapers. Baby-wipes."

"Well, perhaps I could go down for you?" Jean-Luc suggested, taking hold of his granddaughter.

"Tampons."

"How does this carrier thing go on again?"

Mercy helped Jean-Luc into the baby carrier as she continued talking: "Now, she's just woken up from her nap, so she should be up for hours. There's baby food in the cupboard for her when she gets hungry. You should probably head down to the nursery now. Thank you, Jean-Luc, you're a dear."

She kissed his cheek and took off, feeling rather pleased with herself.

...

It was just after one in the afternoon and Gris Gris eyed the LeBeau Estate with a grim smile. On the outside, it looked quite respectable: extensive gardens, exquisite architecture, tall and foreboding fences complete with a fancy gate. Gris Gris found it appropriate that the lair of the Thieves was so much like them: appealing on the outside, dark and sinister on the inside. He was looking forward to causing some mayhem.

Gris Gris ignited the pre-prepared arrow in the waiting fire. Once the cloth behind the arrowhead was lit, Gris Gris lined it up with his composite bow, aimed and fired. He was already lighting the second arrow as the first streamed over the fence and landed in the gardens. Gris Gris continued to shoot burning arrows into the gardens, until he could see a nice fire, raging, smoking and burning bright. He shot a couple more for good measure, and by this time some Thieves had run out. One was going after a hose, while another had buckets, and there were a couple of others who seemed more content to stare in shock.

He lined up a final arrow with his bow, this one with a note tied behind the arrowhead, rather than a burning cloth. Gris Gris aimed for the open door, just above the head of one of the Thieves. The arrow landed right on target and Gris Gris smirked when the Thief's cry of alarm was loud enough that even he could hear it.

"Tick tock, Remy," Gris Gris said to himself as he quickly packed up his things. "Five more days to return the chalice, or you're going to have a lot more than a little fire to deal with."


End file.
